


Paka Ahali

by frk_werewolf (wolfelements)



Series: Fisi'Verse [7]
Category: Angel: the Series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Animal Wesley, Cordelia needs to stop dating, Demon infection, First Date, First Time, M/M, Pack Dynamics, Visions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-08
Updated: 2016-05-07
Packaged: 2018-06-07 01:34:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 27,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6779893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wolfelements/pseuds/frk_werewolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As the infection within grows into an animal, Wesley finds himself questioning the meaning of family and fighting to protect those closest to him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Title Swahili, roughly translates into Cat Family

Prologue

Change. It was inevitable. No matter who you were or where you lived, you had to face it. Typically, change happened over a series of events, stretched out through time. You hardly noticed you were changing until one day you woke up and realized you were a completely different person.

Wesley had never truly appreciated the fact that when he changed, he did so on his own terms. Leaving the Watcher's Council, coming to L.A., and choosing to help Tara. These were choices that he made, consciously, with the knowledge that they would alter everything. He did not, however, realize how different life would be after the Initiative.

Change. It was something you weren't always prepared for, but in the end you had to face. You didn't get to choose how it appeared or what it did, but you could control how you reacted toward it. The problem was that, all in all, most people didn't react the way they should.

This was a fact that Wesley was about to learn.

 

Chapter One

Doyle didn't bother to open his mouth and ask if Angel wanted dinner. His vampire lover immediately, upon entering the Hyperion, had walked briskly up the stairs and disappeared through the darkened hallway. Doyle rubbed slightly at his forehead and thanked his stars that they had already dropped a teary eyed Cordelia off after Buffy Summers' funeral. 

It was bad enough, having to spend the morning at his lover's ex-girlfriend's funeral, but what's worst was the vision Doyle had had upon arriving in L.A. Angel, who wanted nothing more than to hide in his room and brood, had to help save yet another group of innocents, before the sun had actually set. 

Doyle glanced through the window pane and at the thundering clouds in the sky. They certainly fit his mood. With a slight sigh, Doyle pulled off his coat and, after tossing it on a random sofa, made his way upstairs. He bypassed the library, which had signs of brooding vibrating through it's walls. Instead of checking on Angel, he chose instead to move farther down the corridors until he reached the bedroom they had given Wesley. He could hear Gunn speaking through the door, his voice soft and low.

"Gunn?" Doyle called, gently, as he tapped on the door. It swung open a moment later to reveal a man who looked as though he hadn't slept in days, his clothes wrinkled and his eyes bloodshot. "Hey."

"You guys back already?" Gunn asked, pulling the door open and allowing Doyle entrance. 

"Yeah, well, Angel didn't want to stay and hang out with the locals if you know what I mean." Doyle replied, walking toward the bed and taking a look at Wesley.

A yellow sheen of sweat seemed to coat the man's body. He was naked to the waist, the covers drawn down to reveal the large bandage covering his wound. Doyle could still picture the broken claw protruding from Wesley's side, dripping with the golden blood of a lion demon. Wesley was still asleep, his head jerking every so often in a fitful dream.

"I take it we missed the doc's visit?" Doyle questioned, sitting down in a nearby chair. Gunn sat down on the bed, his eyes focused on Wesley's labored breathing.

"Yeah." Gunn nodded. "He's coming back tomorrow evening, at about sunset. In the meantime we have to prepare that cage in the basement for him."

"Cage?" Doyle blinked in shock, before looking back at Wesley. "Why? Is he that dangerous?"

"We don't know, and that's the problem." Gunn admitted, with a tired sigh. "Dr. Keebler says he's fighting the change, but it's inevitable. Wes' body will give out if it keeps this up."

"What are we suppose to do then?" 

"He told me to prepare the cage. He's got a plan, I'm not sure what." Gunn shrugged. "As long as it helps and doesn't kill Wesley, I'm willing to go for it."

A tense silence followed, in which Doyle contemplated whether Angel was finished brooding or not. "I should go check on my vampire. I know he's going through a hard time right now, with Buffy's death, but... It might be a good idea to make sure he didn't set himself on fire or something."

"Hey, man." Gunn said, with a slight smile. "Don't know Angel as well as you do, but don't let this bother you. I mean, she was his unlife for three years. He was under the impression that she was his ticket to happiness and sanity."

"I know that." Doyle replied, unable to keep the resentful tone out of his voice. "It's just a little... Difficult to know that I'll always be second to her, even after death."

"Love isn't easy. I think my sister told me that when I was younger." Gunn said, looking down at Wesley with worried eyes. Doyle stood up, taking a moment to pat Gunn on the shoulder, before silently leave the room.

 

The light was growing, causing his eyes to burn. Blinking, Doyle looked up at Angel, who stood with a grim look on his face. The vampire opened his mouth, speaking, but no sound came out. Doyle felt himself tense, fighting to speak back or to stop Angel from doing whatever it was he wanted to do. The light continued to grow.

"The good fight, yeah?"

"Doyle? Doyle!" Doyle jerked, sitting up with wide eyes. His throat seemed to tighten as he fought to breathe. Cordelia stood in front of him, her mouth drawn into a tight frown. "Are you okay? ...You fell asleep right in the middle of my dazzling explanation of the filing system."

"Filing system?" Doyle asked, rubbing at his eyes. He fought to push the memory of his dream away, certain that it wasn't a vision and merely his sub-conscious playing tricks on him. "Where is everyone?"

"Basement." Cordelia replied, suddenly looking uneasy. "They just moved Wesley in. He didn't wake up, thank God. Dr. Keebler's on his way... I-I'm going to stay out here, you know. Man the desk. We might get some calls, after all--"

"Cordy, it's okay." Doyle interrupted. "You don't have to be down there." Cordelia let out a nervous sigh and sat down on top of the desk. "He's going to be okay, Princess."

"I know." Cordelia insisted. "I just... Wesley has this horrible habit of getting hurt and I'm tired of being worried about him!" Cordelia crossed her arms and looked, for a moment, on the verge of diving into a full rant. It was the sound of the door opening that kept her from speaking. Cordelia let out a frustrated noise, before hopping off of the desk and entering the lobby. "Hi, you must be Dr. Keebler! I... Like your horns."

"Why thank you, young lady." A squeaky voice replied.

Doyle stood, taking a moment to stretch, before entering the lobby. A short man with a pair of two inch pink horns protruding from his forehead stood near the front door, a black doctor's bag in his hand. If Doyle's memory served him right, this was the same doctor to help Spike and Xander when they were first having their hyena problem. Doyle could only pray that this turned out as well as that did.

"Ah, Mr. Doyle. I am Dr. Keebler, of the Woodland Territory." Dr. Keebler greeted, with a slight bow. "I've heard a great deal of you... I see you're still coated with those pesky visions."

"Well, a guy has to have a day job." Doyle stated. "Come on, I think they're ready."

Doyle led Dr. Keebler to the basement. The normally dank and cold space was lit up with a few lamps that Gunn had brought down. The cage had a makeshift bed placed in the corner, where Wesley lay. The man's wheezing could be heard all the way from the stairs. Doyle immediately walked over to Angel's side, watching as Gunn stared at Wesley through the cage bars.

"Well, now, I see our patient isn't doing much better." Dr. Keebler commented, setting his bag onto the floor. He dug around for a moment, before pulling out a large magnifying glass. "Shall we see how far the infection has spread?"

Dr. Keebler calmly waited for Gunn to unlock the cage door, before entering and shutting it behind him. He knelt down next to the bed and raised the magnifying glass about a foot away from his face. Small noises of thoughtfulness escaped the doctor as he inspected Wesley from head to foot. 

"Well?" Gunn asked, when Dr. Keebler stood up. He watched as the doctor opened the door and once again start digging through his bag.

"As I had suspected, the infection has spread dramatically." Dr. Keebler admitted. He straightened up, holding a small vial of light green liquid and a long syringe. "His immune system is fighting the change. It's trying to kill the so-called virus, but is destroying itself in the process. The infection is not, exactly, a virus, though. His body is unable to recognize the magical and demonic side of the blood corrupting his body."

"Corrupting?" Gunn asked, looking horrified.

"Yes, I'm afraid that's the best term for this process." Dr. Keebler admitted. "Very few of the victims of this sort of attack survive the initial transformation, so it's very difficult to tell what it will do to Wesley's body. It could be anything from him taking on aspects of the demon, to a complete alteration of personality."

"What can we do to ensure that Wesley will still be Wesley?" Angel asked in his typical 'I'm concerned, watch me brood' voice. Doyle tried, for the life of him, to not describe Angel in such a way, but after dating the vampire for over a year it became a habit.

"That, sadly, is something I do not know." Dr. Keebler stated, reaching back into his bag to pull out a band-aid and cotton ball. "I would suspect that when he awakens he won't be himself either way, but after a couple of days we should know for certain."

"This feels so wrong." Gunn commented, softly. 

"Not everything happens in perfect order." Dr. Keebler informed him. "Sometimes you've got to hit a few bumps along the way." Dr. Keebler sighed, before immediately perking up again. "Now, Mr. Gunn, if you would be so kind as to come help me hold our dear patient down?"

"Is this going to be dangerous?" Doyle found himself asking. Dr. Keebler merely looked at him, all perkiness vanishing briefly from his face. Doyle, of course, had already known the answer. Of course it was dangerous. This serum, or whatever it was that was inside that vial, could have the opposite effect on Wesley: killing him instantly. Or, Wesley could be allergic to it. Or, the demonic infection could, instead, feed off the injection and thus grow stronger.

Doyle gulped and looked away as Dr. Keebler once again entered the cage. He felt Angel slip his arm around his shoulders, trying to provide some form of support. Sighing, Doyle turned back toward the cage. Gunn had entered behind the doctor and was now kneeling next to the bed, pining Wesley's shoulders to the mattress, which was made up of blankets.

Unable to take it, Doyle took a step forward, giving himself a better view. Angel stepped up next to him, his jaw set and eyes narrowed. Resting his hands on the cold, metal bars, Doyle watched as Dr. Keebler pulled a small packet out of his back pocket. He ripped it open, pulling out a small wet piece of cloth and proceeded in cleaning the side of Wesley's neck. Then, setting that on the bed next to Wesley's twitching arm, Dr. Keebler picked up the syringe.

The needle's cap popped with a soft click. The needle was long, causing Gunn to cringe at the sight. Calmly, the doctor picked up the vial of green liquid and flipped it upside-down. He inserted the needle into the white circle of rubber that was part of the vial's lid and swiftly filled the needle. 

The whole process lasted for barely a minute, if even that, but seemed like an eternity to Doyle. Not finding the strength to look away, Doyle could only watch as Dr. Keebler slowly inserted the needle into Wesley's neck and, most likely, into one of the arteries found there. Wesley's body tensed in his sleep, the muscles in his neck flexing. Dr. Keebler quickly injected the serum and pulled the needle out of Wesley's neck, placing the cotton ball over the spot. He checked it, making sure it wasn't bleeding, before unwrapping the band-aid and gently attaching it to the needle wound.

"Is that all?" Gunn asked, his voice shaky.

"Yes. That is all, for now." Dr. Keebler replied, standing. "Let him rest. If he starts jerking, as though going into a fit, let him be. It's a normal reaction to the medication. If the skin around the injection sight starts turning a shade of green, however, immediately find a way to strap him onto the bed and call me."

"You're not staying... To watch after him?" Doyle asked.

"I'm afraid you are not my only clients." Dr. Keebler informed them, picking up his black bag. "I have a half-Volga demon giving birth before the sun breaks. I can't very well miss it, you know." Dr. Keebler sent them a bright smile. "Not to worry, of course! Everything will be quite all right."

"I'm not sure I believe you." Doyle admitted.

"Well, that's not exactly my problem. Faith and belief, as you may know, is something completely different than reality." Dr. Keebler said. "Now, Mr. Angel. Shall you walk me to the door?"

Angel blinked, looking momentarily shocked, before glancing at Doyle. Doyle shrugged. Letting out a mild sigh, Angel followed Dr. Keebler up the stairs. The basement door shut behind them. Doyle nervously crossed his arms and turned toward Gunn, who had relocked the cage door. "So, now we wait."

"Worst job in the world, waiting." Gunn grumbled.

"Yeah." Doyle nodded. After a moment of uneasy silence, Doyle felt he had outstayed his welcome. Leaving Gunn to his thinking and Wesley-watching, Doyle made his way upstairs. There he found a very confused looking Angel, staring at the door. "You okay, big guy?"

"I think I'm suppose to ask you that." Angel replied, frowning. "He told me to watch out for you. Like... Something was going to happen."

"Angel, man, I wouldn't worry about that." Doyle said, slipping an arm into Angel's. "I'm not going anywhere anytime soon."

"I didn't say you were." Angel told him, softly. Unsure of what, exactly, to say to that, Doyle gently tugged Angel toward the stairs.

"Hey, wait!" Cordelia called from the office. She appeared a second later, pulling on her jacket. "I'm leaving early."

"Why?" Angel asked, looking concerned. While this was a common look for the vampire, Doyle had to admit it was a better expression than the one of worried confusion he was wearing a minute before.

"I have a date." Cordelia beamed.

"He's not... A demon or anything, is he?" Cordelia scowled up at Angel, who had the decency to look a little sheepish about asking such a question. Doyle quickly intercepted before Cordelia could muster a reply.

"Have a good time, yeah?" Doyle smiled, encouragingly. "And, just, you know, call us when you get home?"

"That I can do." Cordelia grinned. Angel and Doyle watched her grab her purse and literally dart from the building, as though afraid they would catch her and tie her to a chair in order to make her stay.

"Maybe we should--?" Angel started.

"You are not about to suggest we follow her." Doyle interrupted, giving his lover a dark look. "Besides, we need to stay here in case something happens with Wesley."

"I wasn't going to suggest that." Angel insisted, allowing Doyle to push him the rest of the way upstairs.


	2. Chapter 2

The dull ache that resided along his hip and shoulder was the first thing that Gunn noticed upon awakening, the second being the fact that he had fallen asleep in the first place. Jerking his body into a sitting position, Gunn rubbed at his sore neck. He had fallen asleep on the cement floor of the basement, while keeping watch over Wesley. Leaning against the wall, Gunn wiped the sleep from his eyes and turned toward the cage.

A part of him was expecting the worst, that something bad had happened to Wesley during his nap. Sighing, Gunn took relief in the fact that Wesley hadn't moved from the cot. It was obvious that he was still breathing, his chest rising with each labored breath.

Gunn slowly pushed himself to his feet, wondering what time it was. He felt his stomach clench, realizing he hadn't eaten since before Dr. Keebler's visit. After taking a moment to check on Wesley, Gunn made his way upstairs and toward the kitchen. He could hear Cordelia complaining before he even got to the door. He paused.

Did he really want to face the wrath of Cordelia Chase? Taking a glance at the windows, he saw that it was daylight out, possibly a couple hours before the sun began to set. Forcing down a yawn, Gunn decided to take a chance and pushed the door open.

"Can you believe that?" Cordelia was screeching. Doyle sat at the table, a large cup of coffee before him, eyes slightly glazed over. 

"Believe what?" Gunn asked, before cringing. He should have known better than to bring attention toward himself.

"My date!" Cordelia exclaimed, throwing up her hands in order to demonstrate how ghastly the whole situation was. "I went through a very rigorous system to make sure he wasn't a demon, and what happens? He tries to feed me to his demon lord!"

"Princess, have you ever thought that you simply have very bad luck with men?" Doyle asked, as Gunn skirted past the irate woman and made for the fridge. He started pulling out ingredients, building himself a sandwich.

"I just don't understand why they always come after me." Cordelia whined, sitting down at the table. "In Sunnydale, Xander was the demon magnet. When did I take his place?"

"It'll be okay, Cordelia." Gunn offered, though that was the only thing he actually had to say on the topic. It wasn't that he didn't care about Cordelia, it was more that she was a bit much for him. He was certain that there were other people in the world that had the ingrained ability to deal with that type of female. Gunn, sadly, wasn't one of them. He often felt it best to simply stand back and let her rant.

"How's Wesley?" Doyle asked. 

"Still asleep." Gunn replied. "I almost want him to stay asleep..."

"I know. You can't help but wonder what he's going to be like, yeah?" Doyle took a sip of his coffee. "I mean, I heard Xander was different with his hyena."

"He won't--" Gunn cut himself off, briefly wondering if he even had the right to say anything about the situation Wesley found himself in. It wasn't like Gunn actually had any experience in this sort of thing. Vampires and demons? Gunn was an expert at dusting them, or cutting them into tiny pieces. To actually make an effort to save someone infected with demon blood? The idea was... Awkward, to say the least. 

Gunn busied himself with eating his sandwich, which was able to keep him from bringing up Wesley. The Englishman was something that Gunn had slowly adjusted to in life. Wesley was always there. After accepting Angel's offer to help his team out on a regular basis, Wesley became the one who called him in or asked him to get something. Gunn kind of liked it, having Wesley's attention like that.

"Hello? Anyone in there?" Cordelia waved her hand in front of Gunn's face. Gunn scowled. "Just checking."

"Don't you have work to do?" Gunn asked. Cordelia raised an eyebrow, her mouth drawn into a tight line.

"Actually, I don't. Besides, I'm a bit tired after fighting to save my own life last night." Cordelia replied. "No thanks to you people."

"You seem fine." Doyle commented. Cordelia let out an angry snarl and stormed from the room. Doyle's lips twitched as he fought down an amused smile.

"Do you think Wesley will be hungry when he wakes up?" Gunn asked, as though Cordelia had not just thrown a minor hissy fit. "Should I make him something?"

"Is he suppose to eat with that injection?" Doyle questioned.

"I'm not sure..." Gunn admitted. "I guess that means the food can wait." Gunn finished off his sandwich and stood. "I'll see you later, man."

Gunn took a moment to grab a folding chair from the first floor utility closet, before making his way back into the basement. It appeared that Wesley had yet to awaken, so Gunn set up his chair and sat down, his mind immediately turning toward other matters. In order to prepare himself for when Wesley woke up, Gunn tried to recall all of the facts he remembered about the cat demon that had attacked him.

It was a lion demon, Paklin, to be specific. A carnivore that stood on it's back legs. It resided in a pride, much like large cats, and behaved in the same manner that lions did. The only difference, from what Gunn read, was that the Paklin had an extreme level of aggression and a taste for human meat. Gunn secretly prayed that Wesley wouldn't wake up craving the flesh of his coworkers.

Letting out a sigh, Gunn leaned his head back and stared up at the ceiling. He remained there for some time, possibly even more than an hour, simply thinking, before a sound reached his ears. Frowning, he turned back toward the cage. Wesley still lay on the bed, but his head was moving and arm twitching. A deep sound escaped him, almost a moan but not quite. Gunn pushed himself to his feet, taking a step toward the cage just as Wesley's head lifted. 

Before Gunn could blink, Wesley gracefully rolled off the cot, landing on one knee, with the tips of his fingers grazing the floor. Gunn held in a breath. He had never seen Wesley move like that before. Normally the former Watcher was a bit clumsy, as though even in his twenties he had yet to adjust to his long limbs. Gunn took another step forward, his own instincts screaming for him to grab a weapon. Something was telling him that the man within that cage was dangerous.

Wesley's head lifted, nostrils flaring as he seemed to scent the air. Gunn frowned. Something was wrong with his eyes, though Gunn wasn't close enough to see. However, worry about that came to a halt when Wesley spotted him. Wesley's lips pulled back, baring a set of teeth with longer, sharper canines. Gunn gasped, taking a startled step back and nearly knocking the chair over. Wesley watched him a moment, what sounded now like a deep growl emitting from his throat, before tossing his head back and letting out a roar.

It was like watching the end of The Lion King or a show on the Discovery Channel. Gunn couldn't breathe as the roar, purely lion and untamed, filled the room. The cement floor nearly vibrated from it's force. The air in Gunn's lungs caught, his eyes wide, as Wesley suddenly threw himself at the cage door. His shoulder hit it, creating a small bend in the bars. Wesley crouched down next to the door, hands sliding across the dirty floor, then up in order to wrap his fingers around a set of bars. Wesley's nostrils flared once more, his head moving forward and farther into the light.

His hair looked different, with an almost honey tint caused by a few golden-red streaks. When Wesley made no movement, Gunn slowly began to creep closer to the cage. Wesley's hands tightened on the bars, but otherwise he didn't move an inch as Gunn got close enough to truly see him. Gunn had to force air into his lungs, nearly panicking, when he saw what was wrong with Wesley's eyes.

"Wesley?" Gunn whispered. Wesley blinked, head tilting.

His eyes were pure gold, even brighter than that of a vampire's. The pupil, normally round, was now vertical and long, like a cat's. Wesley shifted, and as his face moved in and out of shadow the pupil contracted and dilated in a fast reflex. Gulping, Gunn lowered himself to his knees, so they was face to face.

"Hey, English." Gunn said, softly. Wesley growled back at him, a sound that sent shivers down Gunn's spine. Gunn took a deep breath, before speaking again. "I know you're in there. I can feel it... So, whenever you're ready, English, I'll be here."

Wesley's body tensed, eyes narrowing. Then, he pushed himself away from the cage, moving faster than a normal human, until his back hit the cement wall. He was nearly in full shadow now, but his eyes glowed an unearthly gold. A long, meow-like sound escaped from his throat. It reminded Gunn of his grandmothers' cat, who would jump out from behind the sofa and attack people. Gunn got to his feet and took a step backward. The sound ended.

"I'm... I'm going to go get the others, okay?" Gunn said, moving toward the door. He started up the stairs, pausing briefly to watch Wesley curl himself up further into the corner of the cage. Feeling a pang of guilt at locking Wesley up like some animal, Gunn pushed open the basement door and made for the lobby.

"What's got you so freaked out?" Cordelia calmly asked from the front desk. Inside the office behind her, Angel and Doyle were huddled together, speaking softly.

"Wesley's awake." Gunn stated. Angel and Doyle's heads shot up and they made for the door. "He... Uhh, he's pretty feral at the moment. I don't... Man, I don't know what to do with him."

"Wait, what do you mean by 'feral'?" Cordelia demanded, walking around the desk, with the other two at her heels. Gunn closed his eyes. "Gunn?"

"I'm not sure if it's him anymore." Gunn admitted, with a defeated done.

"No, that's impossible." Angel insisted, heading for the basement.

"Angel, man, wait!" Doyle called, rushing after him. As they disappeared through the door, leaving it open, Cordelia stepped closer to Gunn.

"Are you okay?" Cordelia placed her hand on his arm, a small gesture but comforting nonetheless. Gunn nodded. "Hey, Wesley will be fine. I know him. He's stubborn as all hell!"

"I know." Gunn muttered, turning away from her and looking toward the basement door. A roar faintly drifting through the doorway and Gunn debated returning to it's depths.

"You really love him, don't you?" Cordelia asked, her voice soft and in awe. Gunn blinked and turned toward her, shock in every particle of his face. "Don't you?"

"Well, I... I..." Gunn stammered, before glaring. "I don't think that's any of your business, pom-pom."

"Whoa, no need for names." Cordelia frowned.

"Sorry." Gunn mumbled, before storming toward the basement door. Cordelia watched him go, before letting out a sigh and following. 

While Wesley had remained rather calm while it was only Gunn in the basement, upon spotting four people in his domain he began to get a bit fussy. Doyle was trying to calm him down, yelling words that were normally used for comfort at him. But Wesley wouldn’t calm down. He kept throwing himself at the cage door, roaring as though he was being backed into a corner, his eyes glowed a bright gold, sharp teeth bared. 

"English!" Gunn yelled, unsure of what else to do. Wesley rammed into the cage one more time, before his eyes landed on Gunn. He paused, body tensing briefly, before reaching out and gripping the bars tightly. He lowered himself into a crouch, eyes focused on Gunn's form. Gunn gulped, stepping forward. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have left you down here alone."

"Maybe we should--" Angel started, taking a step toward the cage. Wesley let out a long hiss, upper lip pulled back further, giving him a near demonic look. Angel stiffened. "Maybe not."

"He doesn't need any more security, Angel." Doyle said, knowing what the vampire had meant to say. "Besides, I don't think you could get in there long enough to tie him down."

"We're not tying him down!" Gunn snapped, moving closer to the cage. Wesley didn't move and instead watched him with wary, cat eyes. Gunn paused a moment, before reaching out and wrapped his hand around one of the bars, barely two inches above Wesley's hand.

"Gunn..." Cordelia said, in warning. Gunn discreetly shook his head at her.

Wesley's eyes locked with Gunn's. Gunn felt his heart nearly leap up into his throat, but not out of fear. Wesley leaned close and Gunn copied his movement without realizing it. Their noses nearly touched. Keeping their eyes connected, Wesley turned his head slightly and rubbed his nose across Gunn's knuckles. Wesley's nostrils flared as he took in Gunn's scent. Eyes dilating, Wesley continued to breathe deeply.

"Wesley." Gunn said, softly, watching Wesley's face for a reaction. Wesley looked at him blankly, before opening his mouth and sliding his tongue along Gunn's fingers. He heard Cordelia let out a gasp, but was too busy trying to control the mix of remorse and arousal both Wesley's expression and action had caused. Gunn's hand tingled. 

"Gunn..." Angel said, slowly. "Maybe you should get away from him... I don't think that's Wesley anymore."

Gunn didn't react, instead he continued to stare at Wesley's face. Wesley blinked, before leaning closer and literally bumping him lightly in the nose with his forehead. A shudder passed through Gunn's body. It was like Wesley wasn't even there. He was purely animal.


	3. Chapter 3

Musk. Cinnamon. Cocoa. A smell so dark that it was nearly sinful, and yet such purity was held there. Wesley took a deep breath, allowing the scent to take over his lungs. He knew this scent, but something was keeping him from remembering it. The skin pressed along his forehead was soft and smooth, with a hint of heat that indicated a body that radiated an unusually high temperature. The thought made him feel content and comfortable. 

The ends of Wesley's fingers reached up and brushed those of his companion. He knew, deep down, that this creature... Man? Had a name. Yet, his brain was cloudy and he could only think in the most basic terms. This man, this human, was there to protect him. The room was cold and smelled dank, but the building itself had a sense of home. Mostly, because the man was there with him.

Home? Wesley blinked and pulled away from the human, taking in his dark eyes. Home was magic, leather bound books, and a family -- a pride. But what were those things? Wesley's mind couldn't even begin to grasp them. The ideas flitted in and out of his brain, causing a sense of unease in the pit of his stomach. Shaking his head as though to clear away the troubling thoughts, Wesley began scooting away from the bars of his cage.

He was trapped, confined in this small space in a room large enough to be a den. The one who smelled good, the dark one with his kind eyes and a worried tilt of his lips, knelt on the other side of the bars. Separate. He was a protector, and yet he was not allowing Wesley near. Wesley didn't understand it. He didn't understand anything. Why couldn't he be free? What had he done to be punished like this?

Wesley back his the cement wall, cold and imposing. A shuddering breath escaped him. He was stuck and lost and didn't know what was going on. These people... They were familiar; they smelled of pride and happiness, confusion and guilt, love and comfort. They were his. He knew this; instinct took over and told him immediately. Yet, they kept him here, locked like a creature in a zoo. The hair on Wesley's neck began to stand up.

"English?" The man whispered. Wesley didn't know what he meant, what the words were supposed to say, but the tone was calm. 

The others moved closer to the cage. The female smelled of unease, like she wanted to be somewhere else. The short one, whose scent wasn't fully human and was coated in something rather sweet, stood close to the dead one. They were mates, something Wesley was able to recognize immediately. 

He knew these people. They had names, labels. They were pride. Anger shot through Wesley, anger at himself for not being able to call up the words. The fog in his brain was thick and overwhelming. A growl escaped him, turning into a hiss when the dead one pulled the man away from the cage bars. No! Wesley wouldn't let them abandon him. He belonged to them. He knew he did. They held his scent as equally as they held one another’s. Why were they leaving him here, alone and cold in the dark?

"Is he purring?" The female asked. Wesley closed his eyes so he wouldn't have to see the steel bars. They continued to make words, surely a language that he would one day remember, around him.

"The, uh, book said that it was a lion demon." The half-human stated, nervously. "Cats purr when experiencing a lot of different emotions, not just happiness."

"He's definitely not happy." The man stated, his voice smooth and filled with a strange form of fear. Wesley pulled his legs up, wrapping his arms around his knees. A shudder ran through him as he dropped his head forward to rest on his arms.

"Should we leave?" The female asked. "I think we should leave."

"He shouldn't be alone right now." The man insisted. "He sure as hell shouldn't be locked up in a cage."

"We don't know how dangerous he is." The dead one said.

"He's not--" The man began.

"Hey, Angel, man." The half-human interrupted. "Let's, uh, go do a little researching, yeah?"

"But--" The dead one -- Angel? -- was cut off by some unknown thing. Wesley didn't open his eyes, but he could hear three sets of feet leaving the basement. The soft distance of a protesting voice, which Wesley couldn't identify, drifted down into the room. A fourth remained. The man, the protector. A sense of relief washed over Wesley, as his curled further into himself. He wasn't alone.

 

"I've never seen him look like that." Cordelia said softly as they entered the lobby. "Even after Faith... Do you think he'll be okay?"

"It's hard to say." Angel replied. "He doesn't seem to know what's going on around him..."

"Typical." Cordelia snorted. "The one time we need the Powers That Be to let us in on what's going on, they give us nothing."

"Splitting headache aside, I don't think I'd mind an indication of what's to come at the moment." Doyle agreed. With a sigh, he walked toward the sofa. It was only because of Angel following at his heels that, when he stumbled halfway there, he didn't hit the ground headfirst.

"Doyle?" Angel's asked, his voice sounding distant as Doyle's vision began to blur.

"Our rats are low."

"Rates!" An indignant voice snapped.

"It says rats." A series of images filled Doyle's head. Cordelia with a camera. A bright and burning light. "Is that it? Am I done?"

"It's light kills anything with human blood." Angel's voice told him. Everything was too bright to see, except the comforting shadow of Angel before him. The terrible smell of burning flesh filled his nose. "If I pull the cable, I think I can still shut it off."

Panic, followed by a sudden sense of calm and knowledge. "The good fight, yeah?"

Doyle's eyes snapped open and he jerked away from Angel's grasp, thinking for a brief moment that he was still locked in whatever that had been. It wasn't a vision, not exactly. Panting, he relaxed enough to allow Angel to pull him into a tight hug. 

"Doyle?" Angel asked, eyes holding a sea of worry. "Are you okay? ...That didn't look like a vision."

"It wasn't." Doyle said, breathlessly. "I don't know... It was more like a memory than a vision, but whatever it was has already happened."

"Why would the Powers send you a vision of something that's already been done?" Cordelia asked, frowning in confusion.

"I..." Doyle blinked up at Angel, eyes growing wide. "I died. No, I mean I was... I was supposed to die... The Scourge and their beacon of human death... It was supposed to kill me."

 

Wesley slowly stretched his legs out, eyes opening to watch as the man paced before his cage. Wesley felt his stomach constrict, a sign that he needed food. And tea. He wouldn't mind some tea. Wesley jerked from that thought, shocked that he actually had a word for that craving. Tea? Earl Grey. Green tea. Peppermint. Ginseng. So many kinds of tea.

Why was he suddenly able to remember that, but not the name of the man that stood before him? Surely the one whose presence gave him such comfort was more important than flavored water. Wesley took a deep breath. He wanted to hear the man speak again. His accent was strange, similar to the others but with a smooth twist to it. Not like the half-human's, whose voice swung with each vowel.

Wesley's stomach growled and deep down, he felt a little embarrassed for it. Why, though? Hunger was hunger. Bodily noises were natural, any animal knew that. Yet, Wesley wasn't an animal. At least, he didn't think so. Frowning at this new idea, Wesley didn't notice the man walk over to the cage door.

"Wesley?" The man called, pulling Wesley away from his thoughts. Wesley looked up, meeting the man's dark eyes. "Are you hungry? I could bring you some food."

Wesley tilted his head. These words. They matched the ones inside his mind, but he still couldn't understand them when spoken aloud. He knew, however, that the man was waiting for a reply. Unable to form the words needed to speak, Wesley merely gave him a hopeful expression. He trusted the man to not harm him and, therefore, would agree to anything he wanted.

"I'll be right back, okay?" The man said, before standing and walking toward the stairs. 

Wesley panicked for a brief second, his breath coming in sharp gasps, when he saw the man leaving, but he managed to slowly calm himself down. Pressing his back against the cold wall, letting that cool his bones, Wesley focused on the beam of light the open door created. His ears picked up the faint murmur of voices, but they were too soft to be formed into words.

Time passed, though Wesley had no way of knowing. The room was dark, with no windows to see the sun. A chill settled over him, creating a cold sweat along his limbs. There was no sickness within him, for he could not smell it, but he knew that it was only a matter of time before this basement room gave him a virus of some kind. Fighting down a shiver, Wesley glanced at the makeshift bed, debating whether he could pull the blankets off. He had finally given into the freeze and reached for the bed, when the door opened and the man came down with a plate.

"Hey, English, sorry it took so long." The man said, stopping before the cage door. 

The man seemed to hesitate, before a stubborn look passed over his face and his proceeded to unlock the cage. Wesley lifted himself into a crouch, eyeing the man carefully. The man stepped closer, before dropping down onto his knees and setting the plate on the floor. Wesley's nose twitched at the smell of ham and cheese. The sandwich had been toasted and Wesley wanted nothing more than to fold his hands around it's warmth.

"It's not gonna bite, man." The man informed him, with a smile. Wesley narrowed his eyes, frustration coursing through him. Why couldn't he remember his name?

Wesley reached forward and gently pulled the plate toward him. The ceramic scraped noisily across the cement, causing Wesley to wince. He grabbed the sandwich, cradling it between his two hands, and sniffed it. The man grinned at this, before comfortably sliding downward until he sat fully on the floor. Wesley watched him a moment, before taking a bite of his meal.

"Good?" He asked, with a crooked smile. Wesley nodded, making a pleased noise in the back of his throat. 

When Wesley was finished, he watched as the man picked up the plate and set it to the side. His body hummed with satisfaction that his hunger pains had been cured. This man had brought him food, something that usually meant a strong connection. Wesley's face felt warm at the thought and he was careful to not look the man directly in the eye. His mind was still coated in a thick fog, so he wasn't certain if this strong craving to suddenly curl up around the other man was instinct or some former emotion. 

Unable to stop himself, Wesley lifted himself up until he was balancing on his hands and knees. Dark eyes looked at him in confusion, but the man didn't move. That scent, musky and filled with dark spices, drifted out toward Wesley, sending a sense of heat down his spine. Moving on pure instinct, for Wesly didn't have anything else to go by, Wesley began to crawl toward him. 

"English--" The man started, sounding nervous. Not fearful, though. Wesley moved closer, placing one palm on the floor along each side of the man's thighs. He leaned back, but Wesley moved forward to compensate. "What are you doing, man?"

Wesley felt something vibrate deep within his chest. He didn't reply. Instead, he lowered his head and pressed his nose against the side of the man's neck. The intoxicating smell attacked his senses. He knew this man. They were best friends, or at least on the verge of becoming such. The pain of the last few days echoed in the back of Wesley's mind. The Initiative. Tara's call for help. The jagged wound left by the claw of a released demon. Why was he remembering these things now, and not before?

"English? You okay?" The words were spoken softly in his ear, hot breath hitting his neck.

"Gunn." Wesley's voice was scratchy, having not been used for a few days. The word shocked him, causing his head to jerk back. His eyes widened as he stared down at the man he had just called Gunn. That was his name. He remembered now. Charles Gunn. The cloud covering his brain seemed to be slowly evaporating. Things were still difficult to understand, but he knew who Gunn was and that was what was important.

"Wes." Gunn broke into a smile. "You're eyes... They're blue again."


	4. Chapter 4

Wesley slowly blinked his eyes, the reflection in the mirror copying his move. In the bedroom he could hear Gunn moving around, most likely trying to get everything set up before the man left. Wesley felt a flicker of panic at the idea of Gunn leaving him, alone in this hotel with strangers. That was before he reminded himself that these people weren't strangers. Despite the nagging feeling in his gut that he had yet to be accepted into the group, not really, Wesley understood that they were pride -- family.

The female with the large brown eyes and glossy hair, surely a fine pick for any male, was Cordelia. He had known her for nearly two years and her scent was as familiar to him as his own. She didn't come near him when they had finally brought him out of the basement, but Wesley could see the worry and care in her eyes. The vampire was the pride leader, alpha male. Wesley felt no urge to challenge him, for it wasn't in his nature. Besides, Angel seemed to be handling things just fine. Or, perhaps, it was his half-demon counterpart that was the true leader. It was obvious to any untrained eye that the mated pair was one and the same, separate only by their underlaying scents. Doyle was good for Angel, Wesley could tell.

Gunn. Now, he was a bit of a mystery. Wesley understood that he was a new addition, but he slid into his place so seamlessly that it was easy to forget. Gunn set off something inside of Wesley that made him want to do things that would make his father roar with anger. Wesley wanted so much, simply from a kind look, that he could barely comprehend it all. It was best, he decided, to simply ignore the urges entirely.

Blue eyes, with slitted pupils cut like a cat's, stared at him from the mirror. Without thinking, Wesley curled back his upper lip, the points of sharp canines peeking out. Wesley flinched, knowing that this wasn't right. He wasn't supposed to look this way. Telling himself this, however, did nothing to deter the fact that he felt comfortable in his skin, more comfortable than he had in a very long time.

"English?" Gunn's voice slipped through the bathroom's nearly shut door. "You okay in there?"

"I'm fine." Wesley replied, opening the door. Gunn smiled slightly and entered, heading for the shower. Wesley watched him start it up in silence.

"You'll feel better after a shower." Gunn informed him, straightening up. Gunn moved over toward him, reaching for his shirt. "Here, let me..."

Wesley silently lifted his arms, allowing Gunn to pull his shirt over his head. He felt heat cover his skin, when Gunn paused long enough to look at his chest. Fighting the urge to cover himself, Wesley waited. Gunn cleared his throat, sent Wesley a small smile, and proceeded in removing the bandage from Wesley's side. Wesley breathed sharply through his teeth as the tape pulled away from his flesh.

"It looks better." Gunn said. "I'd say you'll be back to normal in no time."

"Thank you." Wesley replied, his voice soft. Gunn watched him a second, before nodding. 

"I'll leave you to, uh, get cleaned up." Gunn opened the door and, with one last glance back, left. Wesley stared at the door for a moment, before breathing in deeply through his nose. The musky scent that was Gunn filled his lungs, comforting him.

The shower was a mixture of relief and worry. The part of him that Wesley was slowly beginning to recognize as human was happy to be under the hot spray of water, to have the sweat and grime washed away. His other half, the mind of some instinctive animal that was bleeding through his body and mixing with his humanity, felt alienated under the liquid. As though it didn't feel right being so wet.

He found a pair of flannel pants and a plain black t-shirt on his bed when he emerged. Gunn was nowhere to be seen. Wesley was somewhat reluctant to leave the safety of the room and chose to look around instead. He knew his room like the back of his hand, but it was like looking through a new pair of glasses. Everything was sharper, filled with gold hinted color and strong scents.

The processed wood from the pages within leather bound covers drifted from the bookshelves. The trail of Gunn, who must have spent some time pacing in the last couple of days, could be picked up in the carpet here and there. Standing in the middle of the room, Wesley scratched idly at his arm.

By the time he made the choice to leave the room and venture into the lobby downstairs, it was past midnight. Bypassing his robe, Wesley pushed open the door and made for the stairs. He could hear Angel's voice as he descended, somewhere in the offices, speaking in a comforting tone.

"What's wrong?" Wesley asked when he spotted Gunn by the counter.

"From what I could tell? Vision." Gunn replied, as Angel and Doyle exited the office.

"We need to hurry. Gunn, grab a weapon." Angel informed them, pausing when he turned toward Wesley. "Maybe you should stay here..."

"What is happening?" Wesley asked again, eyes narrowing.

"It's Cordelia." Doyle said, a soft gleam of sweat shining on his brow. Wesley took in a breath, smelling the pain that drifted from Doyle. "She had another date, with some guy she met at the coffee house down the street. Basically, if we don't leave right about now, she's going to have her soul sucked out and used for an Energizer battery."

"Then I suspect we get going." Wesley stated, reaching for a weapon of his own.

"Are you sure?" Gunn asked, softly. Wesley nodded, picking up a heavy long sword and testing the weight in his hand. The metal felt foreign and in the back of his mind something roared for the bliss of claws and sharp teeth. Wesley allowed his tongue to touch the tips of his canines, which still remained longer than normal.

"I really don't think Wesley should come." Angel said, his voice sounding both worried and in control.

"Why not?" Gunn asked, before Wesley could open his mouth. Wesley avoided Angel's eyes as Gunn defended him. The motion by the other man came as a blessing, one that Wesley inwardly felt happy about. At the same time, however, he questioned his actual usefulness. He was good with research, this he knew, but what actual good could he be to this family of fighters if he could not pick up a weapon?

"Look, Gunn, he's been through a lot, I just think it would be safer if he stayed here." Angel said in a near gentle tone.

"I can fight." Wesley spoke up, his spine tensing as he met Angel's eyes. "I want to help Cordelia as much as you do. You allow your mate, who is still feeling pain from his vision, to fight, but I'm not able?"

"I didn't think--" Angel cut himself off, before nodding. "Get dressed."

 

Wesley huddled close to Gunn as they approached the warehouse. He ears felt as though they were twitching as they picked up the sound of Cordelia's voice screaming obscenities. Angel and Doyle were in front of them, talking softly to each other. They seem to come to a decision as Angel stormed toward the warehouse door and kicked it open. Wesley winced at the loud crash, the sound causing his now sensitive ears to ring.

The warehouse was lit by a few ceiling lights, casting a yellow glow upon the large pentacle that was painted on the floor. Cordelia stood in the middle of the symbol, her hands in chains that connected to the cement floor. The scowl on her face was visible from the doorway, as was the slow drip of blood falling from a wound on her bare shoulder.

A rage that seemed to start at the tips of Wesley's fingers started to build within him. Breathing heavily, the scent of Cordelia's blood hitting his nose, Wesley tightened his grip on his weapon and focused his eyes on the man standing near the pentacle. Electricity charged the air, it's source the spell that the man had been working.

"It's about damn time you got here!" Cordelia exclaimed as Angel rammed himself into her date. Wesley ignored the fight, rushing over to Cordelia's side to check on her. She held out her hands, chains clinking, as she watched as her date shot a ball of fire at Angel. "Wow, I didn't know he could do that."

"Let's get you out of here." Wesley said, softly. He grabbed the chains jerked at them, realizing in the back of his mind that pulling would, or at least should, be useless. But, instead of having to resort to finding the key, the metal snapped apart in his hands. Cordelia stared up at him in shock, her eyes widening dramatically when they locked on his.

"Wesley?" She asked, her voice filled with nervous tension. "Why are your eyes yellow?"

"What?" Wesley asked, blinking. "I don't know what you mean. Come on, Cordelia, we've got to get out of here."

"Okay." Cordelia nodded, though she still looked at him oddly as he led her toward the door. A spark of light shot past them, hitting the wall and falling to the floor in an array of sparks. "Oh, crap."

"Get outside to the car." Wesley ordered, before spinning around and surveying the fight. Cordelia's date, a tall man with stark white hair and the type of smile one often saw in magazines, was in the process of throwing more elemental magic toward the fighters. Gunn was pulling himself back to his feet, while Doyle had finally shifted over to his demon form. Wesley watched, and for a moment was unable to move, as the man turned on Gunn and sent a blast of fire in his direction. "Gunn! Look out!"

Gunn dove out of the way just in time, barely getting out of the fire's path. Wesley felt an intense heat rush up his spine and it was as though a red curtain had covered his eyes. From an outsider's perspective, it would look at though Wesley was a rabid man, wishing for nothing but blood. The reality was not much different.

"Wesley!" Hands grabbed at his shoulders as he attacked the man before him. The shocked, worried eyes of a vampire suddenly filled his vision. Blinking, Wesley glanced down to find Cordelia's date laying in a shallow pool of blood.

"Wes?" Gunn's voice asked from behind him. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine." Wesley admitted, turning around. He took one look at Gunn, before stepping closer and pressing his face against Gunn's neck. Gunn stiffened for a split second as Wesley sniffed at his scent. "D-Did he hurt you?

"Me?" Gunn sounded shocked, though Wesley couldn't imagine why. Had he never shown genuine care towards Gunn before? "Yeah, I'm okay... Just fine."

"We should get out of here." Doyle stated, his eyes trained on the ceiling so he couldn't see the blood. As they made their way toward the door, Doyle couldn't help but make one last comment. "Cordelia needs to swear off dating, it's obviously hazardous to her health."

 

Wesley could hear Doyle and Angel speaking in the lobby. The kitchen, where he sat watching Gunn pull food out of the fridge, was dark. Across the table, Cordelia looked to be half-asleep. The tension from the battle had finally drifted away, leaving Wesley with a strong desire to speak with the female member of the pride. He couldn’t understand how she could keep choosing the most unlikely candidates for a mate. All of his memories of her, leading back to their own horrid affair, were simply... Wrong.

"Here you go." Gunn said, softly, setting a sandwich in front of Wesley. Warmth filled Wesley's chest as he smiled his thanks. Gunn sat down next to him, hesitating a moment before he spoke. "I wanted to talk to you."

"About what?" Wesley inquired, glancing briefly at Cordelia. The girl seemed lost in her own thoughts, leaving Wesley a tiny bit more comfortable with speaking to Gunn in front of her.

"Tonight." Gunn took a deep breath. "I've never seen you fight like that, Wes. It was... Okay, it was a little scary, I'll admit. It was like you went... Back to being an animal. Your eyes turned gold and everything."

"I can't explain what happened." Wesley informed him, picking idly at the crust on his sandwich. "I, well, I didn't want to see you get hurt. I wanted to..."

"You wanted to what?"

"Duh, bonehead, he wanted to protect you." Cordelia announced, looking up with a scornful expression. "He wants to protect you, you want to protect him. It's a lovey-dovey world we live in, what with the likelihood of Angel and Doyle making out in the lobby and all."

"I take it you're in a bad mood." Gunn stated.

"My date tried to kill me again." Cordelia said, rubbing at her temples. "Why do men keep attempting murder around me? Is it my hair?"

"Perhaps you're looking for a mate in the wrong place." Wesley suggested. Gunn and Cordelia stared at him and, for a split second; he wondered what it was he had said. Then, with a sigh, he decided to clarify. "A mate, i.e. the one you're intended to spend eternity with. Your attributes fit with his or hers in perfect harmony. A mate."

"Thank you, Mr. Dictionary." Cordelia muttered, standing. "I suppose I should put out a personals add? 'Young vixen searches for mate. Attributes must harmonizes with own.' How's that?"

"No need for sarcasm, Cordelia." Wesley informed her. Cordelia let out a snort and walked out of the room. There was a second of silence, in which Wesley attempted to eat. However, the look he knew Gunn was giving him was slowly getting to him. An itch, located at the back of his neck, ordered him to look at the other man.

"Did you mean all of that? About the mate... thing?" Gunn asked.

"Why wouldn't I?"

"I don't know... Maybe because it sounds weird? The only other people I've heard describe mates like that is Angel and Doyle. But they're, well, part-demon." Gunn said, nervously.

"I don't think this comes as a surprise to you, though I keep trying to ignore it, but I'm part-demon, now." Wesley watched the look of sadness hit Gunn's face. "I'm not that different."

"No. It's just the little things." Gunn admitted.

"Gunn, I--"

"Guys!" Cordelia's voice yelled through the door, cutting Wesley off. "Get in here! Something's wrong with Doyle."

Wesley took a moment to meet Gunn's eyes, hoping for one last connection with the man he slowly found himself becoming obsessed with, before standing and rushing toward the door. Cordelia stood off to the side, nervously rubbing at on arm and she watched the scene before her. On the floor, in front of the sofa that he had most likely been sitting on, Doyle lay. His body was twitching, as though he was having a seizure. 

"What happened?" Gunn asked.

"I don't know." Angel replied from where he was sitting next to his lover. Angel's arms wrapped tightly around the half-demon, while waves of fear flowed off of him. "He was talking about these visions he's been having, when his eyes rolled up into his head and he fell to the floor."

"Visions?"

"He's been seeing things... Things that could have happened if things had gone differently in the past." Angel explained, pressing one cheek against Doyle's forehead. Doyle's body stiffened, before a sigh escaped his chest. "I think he's coming out of it."

Bright, nearly clear green eyes opened and met Angel's. Wesley held his breath, not even needing the enhanced scent to smell the love and desire that the two always shared between them. Doyle took in a shuddering breath, blinking up at Angel. Then, the faint sent of shock, anger, and fear hit Wesley's nose. Wesley knew he wasn't the only one to smell it; the tension in Angel's back was evidence of that.

"Let me go." Doyle ordered, his accent thick.

"Doyle, what's--" Angel started.

"Let go of me!" Doyle snapped, pushing Angel away and scrambling back. Angel remained crouched, eyes confused. "Please, Angel, just... Leave me alone for a while."

"What did you see?" Angel demanded, his face hardening.

"I can't... I don't..." Doyle closed his eyes, taking in a deep breath. He pushed himself to his feet, tilting to the side for a moment before he was able to get his bearings. Then, when an expression filled with sorrow, he turned away. "It's nothing. I'll be in my room."

Silence, as Angel remained on the floor looking as though the world had been pulled out from underneath him. Wesley understood his reaction. Doyle had never pulled away from Angel before. As far as Wesley was aware, it had never happened before they became lovers, either.

"Okay, that?" Cordelia spoke up. "Was just weird."


	5. Chapter 5

"I'm not meant to be here, you know." Doyle commented, his eyes focused on the open window. The orange glow of the sun rising from the east set the room on fire. Angel couldn't enter due to the light and had, after yelling through the door for a few minutes, left Doyle alone. Wesley, up until this point had forgotten, that Doyle even had his own room, though he could understand the need to get away from a lover on occasion.

"I think you're exactly where you are meant to be." Wesley replied. He had come to check on Doyle not long after Angel's retreat. The urge to comfort their leader's mate was strong and Wesley had to give in. Watching Doyle stare at the cars driving by forlornly proved that his instinct was right. Doyle didn't need to be alone. "Do you want to talk about what you saw?"

"It's hard to explain." Doyle admitted, stepping away from the window and walking toward the bed. "I died. Before you showed up we had this run in with the Scourge. Angel pretending to be a recruit and managed to rewire part of their beacon, which was meant to destroy anything with human blood, before they could use it on this family of half-breeds. In my vision, things happened a little differently. Angel didn't rewire it and they set the beacon off. I unplugged it, but burned into a million little dust particles in the process.

"And then this last one..." Doyle shook his head and met Wesley's eyes. "I think I took away Angel's redemption."

"I don't understand. How can you take something like that away?" Wesley asked. It didn't seem possible to him.

"Remember that prophecy? The one that had the resurrection that Wolfram and Hart were attempting?" Wesley nodded. He remembered being hunched over that piece of parchment, passing over words associated with angels and messengers, searching for something that the law firm could actually be using. He had been obsessed, so much so that he forgot to look at his surroundings and ended up in the hospital when their old office exploded. "It also had a prophecy in it about Angel."

"That doesn't mean you--"

"I lived. I was supposed to die because of the Scourge, but instead I was there to keep you from reading every inch of that thing. Remember? I insisted you just skim through it and look for something in the now, not later." Doyle took a deep breath. "Because of me, how are we to know that part of the prophecy is even in there now? It's destroyed, there is no telling what it said."

"That's not your fault. If I remember correctly, and I think I do, you were too busy being tied to a hospital bed from all of those visions." Wesley insisted.

He hated seeing Doyle like this. He hated seeing anyone like this. It made him feel like he wasn't doing his job. He was supposed to be there in order to make things a little easier on everyone else. He researched and acted as background support so they wouldn't have to, so they could focus on what was important.

"Do you know what happened after Wolfram and Hart resurrected whatever they were supposed to?" Wesley asked. 

When they had discovered the law firm's plans, Angel and Cordelia had agreed that destroying the parchment before the ceremony could finish was their best option. While Gunn, just recently an acquaintance of Angel's, watched over Wesley, Cordelia sat next to Doyle and held his hand. Angel tracked the demon that had placed them in the hospital down and proceeded to steal the prophecy and destroy it. No resurrection ever took place.

"I didn't see that far." Doyle admitted. "Just to the part about Angel's redemption."

"Maybe... Maybe it would be best if we looked into this." Wesley suggested. "Instead of simply letting these visions come and go. We should find a reason. Why now? Something must be triggering them."

"Research Boy to the rescue?" Doyle gave a weak smile. Wesley fought down a flinch, knowing that Doyle was just trying to look on the bright side of things. "It seems kind of pointless. Who's to say the Powers aren't just trying to screw with my head?"

"While I'm not an expert at the Powers, I would think that they would have the understanding that you are what holds Angel together. If they want to keep him as a Champion then they better make sure you're safe and sound." Wesley informed him. Doyle bit his lower lip and looked away. "Doyle?"

"Then, what if I'm just seeing this stuff because they want to make sure I don't stray? Like a sort of 'this is what was going to happen if you weren't there, so you better realize that you have no place to go' sort of deal?" Doyle crossed his arms rather defiantly. "I don't like being... Told what to do or held captive. A part of me is urging to just get up and walk away, just to see if that will change things."

"I'll look into it." Wesley said, determined to not acknowledge that comment. The idea made his heartache and his fangs -- Would he ever get over the fact that he had fangs, now? -- sting. He didn't want this pride to break up, it was too important.

Standing, Wesley left Doyle to his thoughts. He found Angel hovering in the shadow of the hallway, keeping watch over his lover's door. Wesley felt a sweep of loneliness at the sight. It was the same feeling he always developed when he saw the two together, whether they were taking a moment to actually kiss in semi-public or arguing. Wesley sighed and opted to leave Angel to his worrisome thoughts. Wesley felt he had drained all his energy attempting to help other people today.

 

The library, which took up a room that had once been a place for social interaction, was Wesley's home away from home. When things were bothering him he usually spent more time inside its walls than usual. Wesley had to admit that, if it weren’t for being locked inside the basement and injured before that, he probably would have been there a lot sooner.

Perhaps it was fate, Wesley didn't know, but someone had left the book devoted to cat demons on the table. For a moment, Wesley didn't plan on reading it. He was there to research visions gone bad, not read about what was now coursing through his veins. He didn't feel that affected by the demon blood, anyway. He was still the same: a knowledge addict, who often felt inadequate and had a mild crush on his best friend.

It was the small things that changed. The way he looked, for one. The constant urge to protect everyone and to ensure the survival of the group. But these were mild. His sense of smell was stronger, his reflexes quicker. Yet, again, they were mild. 

Cordelia's date flashed before his eyes, blood slick on the floor. Wesley took a deep breath and pulled the book toward him.

He was still studying when Gunn entered the room. His musky scent hit Wesley's nose, sending a sharp sting of arousal through his body. Wesley was barely able to push the sensation away, but finally managed as the younger man walked over. Wesley felt the heat radiating off of Gunn's body as he stood behind Wesley, looking over his shoulder.

"What's all this?" Gunn asked, reaching past Wesley to lift the book off the table. Wesley stared at the inside of Gunn's arm, shocked as he realized he could practically hear the rush of blood within Gunn's veins. "Wes?"

"I thought it would be a good idea to look up what... What I've become." Wesley finally said.

"Anything new?" Gunn slid into the seat next to Wesley, pushing the book back into its place before him. Wesley missed his heat.

"Just a few things that seem to be a delayed reaction." Wesley felt his blood rush to his skin. He was blushing, a lot. "They take a few days to manifest."

"Like what?" Gunn tilted his head in question. Wesley paused.

Should he tell? It wasn't like it was a horrible secret that would end Wesley's relationship with him. Wesley knew that Gunn was much stronger than everyone else gave him credit for. Gunn was what Wesley's father would call a worthless thug, a gangster that was destroying the economy, and an ignorant fool that didn't know subtraction from his ABCs. Wesley knew differently. 

But then, to Wesley, Gunn was everything. Wesley hated it, he truly did. He didn't like to be needy or dependent. He hated knowing that if Gunn were to leave him, he would simply curl up and let death suck him under.

"English?" Gunn whispered, pulling Wesley away from his thoughts. God, how Wesley loved it when Gunn called him that.

"Soon, I'll bring you food and cater to your every need." Wesley said, his voice monotone. "I'll defend you and attempt to kill anyone who gets between us. I'll be violent."

"What? I don't understand."

"I'm not making much sense, am I?" Wesley smiled, bitterly. "It doesn't make sense. I keep shifting, you know. My mind, from an intellectual to pure instinct. Thoughts bouncing around... Those that receive the infection of this type of demon take on personality traits."

"What kind of personality traits?" Gunn asked.

"The Paklin is a lion demon." Wesley began, looking away so he didn't have to see Gunn's face. The thoughts that hit him every time the man was near was too much right then. Wesley couldn’t deal with it. "Do you remember Xander? He's joined with a hyena spirit, an alpha female. There are certain instincts that a hyena has that Xander can't control. He holds Tara in extremely high regard not only because of her power, but because she is female. He's highly protective of his pack, and especially his mate. Though Spike is a vampire, Xander will always feel the urge to protect him as though he were weak. Partly because Spike is male and partly because Xander is an alpha creature."

"What does this have to do with you?"

"Lions don't have packs, they have prides. This is my pride." Wesley gestured around the library. He knew Gunn would understand that he meant those that dwelt within this home and not the actual building. "They don't typically mate for life, though I'm sure you've watched enough Discovery Channel to know that. The Paklin, however, do. Angel has Doyle and they are forever mates. Cordelia is... She's drifting and searching, but she's not looking in the right place. It'll be a while before she gets her princess."

"Wait, did you just say princess?" Gunn interrupted, pulling Wesley from his nearly poetic thoughts. Wesley smirked. "That's just weird, English. There is no way this little 'pride' has so many gay couples."

"Less likely events have happened." Wesley commented. He met Gunn's eyes, taking a moment to swim in the affection found there. "I must be honest with you, Charles."

"I'd like that." Gunn admitted with a lopsided smile.

"I want you." Wesley whispered. "I... I think I belong to you. When I talked about feeding you and defending you... That's the Paklin's way of courting their mates. It's too forward for me to do, but I feel the urge. I don't think you'd make the first move, though I wish you would, so I'm stuck with doing it myself."

"What makes you think...?" Gunn trailed off and gulped. After a moment of silence, he started again. "What makes you think I won't make the first move?"

"Well, I didn't know if--" Wesley began. Gunn snorted, cutting him off.

"You're talking about wanting and desire here, Wes. I wanted to be with you the moment I saw you in that hospital bed." Gunn shook his head and smiled. "I thought Angel was crazy, ordering me to stand guard over this skinny white guy."

"Ah, yes, I remember." Wesley had been rather out of hit when Gunn had shown up. Morphine was a lovely thing, indeed.

"Then you opened your eyes." Gunn half-chuckled, almost as though he were embarrassed. Wesley wasn't used to see Gunn this way. "You have beautiful eyes, Wes. Even now with the cat pupils, they're still as blue as the ocean."

"Thank you." Wesley gulped and looked away, face flushed. The serious aspect of the conversation hung thick over his head. "Maybe I should begin researching Doyle's visions. I promised, after all."

"Right." Gunn nodded and made to stand up. He paused, watching Wesley's profile carefully. "Want some help?"

"No, that's--" Wesley bit his lip. "Sure, I'd like that."

As Gunn worked alongside him, Wesley couldn't help but feel a sense of contentment. While their new course of study turned out to be difficult, Wesley could not think of any other way he'd rather spend his day than next to Gunn and surrounded by books. He had expected Gunn to go terse around him now that Gunn knew how he felt. He thought he would be abandoned, ignored. It was a silly belief, but Wesley had a tendency to expect the worst.

"We should go for coffee or something." Gunn suggested. Wesley looked up and noticed the nervous tension in Gunn's shoulders. "Or, you know, something else if you don't like coffee..."

"Are you asking me out on a date?" Wesley asked, forcing down the sudden urge to howl in delight.

"Maybe." Gunn's eyes darted away as he seemed to struggle at not meeting Wesley's eyes. Wesley patiently waited him out. Gunn sighed. "Yeah."

"I would enjoy that, I think." Wesley slowly began to smile.


	6. Chapter 6

Wesley tugged at the hem of his shirt and glanced at his closet. He wasn't sure if he looked appropriate or not. He had gone on dates before, but this was a little different. Gunn was taking him out, the same Gunn that he had been emotionally and instinctively attached to for some time. Sure, it was only coffee, but it was Gunn. Wesley's brain could not stress that enough.

Taking in a deep breath, Wesley could actually smell his own nervousness. It was strange how it seemed to fill the air, spreading out into the room. He hoped Angel and Doyle weren't nearby, for they would probably smell it from the hallway.

Wesley closed his eyes briefly, trying to gather the inner strength he needed. It wasn't like him to feel so insecure, but everything about Gunn sent him for a loop. Wesley would like to blame it on the creature that was slowly bleeding itself into his body, but he knew that wasn't true. Gunn had enamored Wesley since the beginning; only now his new feline nature brought it out in tenfold. Wesley reopened is eyes, blue cat-eyes staring back at him from the mirror.

He calmly reached over and grabbed his coat, slipping it on before opening his bedroom door. He could hear Cordelia's voice in the distance as she spoke to someone in a demanding tone. A slight smile graced Wesley's features. Cordelia in a bad mood was, while utterly scary, such a regular event in this hectic world. It was nice to see that some things simply did not change.

"Look, Princess, I'm sorry that I didn't call you about the last vision." Doyle was saying as Wesley entered the room. Wesley immediately thought back to what Doyle was talking about. A horde of vampires had been congregating in the park the night before last. Angel had been the only thing between them and a little old lady walking her terrier. 

"Am I or am I not a member of this organization?" Cordelia asked, looking more agitated than Wesley had seen her in a long time. 

"Yes, of course you are--" Doyle began, his clear green eyes widening. This conversation was rapidly growing out of control, but Wesley didn't pity him. He couldn't help but notice that Cordelia had been pushed farther to the side, ever since they had returned from Sunnydale. 

The thought of Sunnydale caused his side to twinge in mock sympathy. Wesley rubbed his old wound and walked toward the sofa. He sat down and waited for Gunn to arrive, his eyes watching Doyle and Cordelia. Cordelia was giving Doyle a genuinely hurt look, something that Wesley immediately thought looked out of place on her.

"You don't get it, do you Doyle?" Cordelia picked idly at a paper on the desk. "It was fine when you and Angel got together. I was fine with it. I understood why you two were meant to be and in the beginning I still felt a part of our little threesome. When Wes showed up... He joined us and I didn't feel so alone while watching you and the boss make googly eyes at each other."

Wesley winced. He suddenly had a clear vision of where this was going. The intense loneliness that he had felt before the Sunnydale event had dissipated. Gunn was around more often and was actually interested in return, but that meant... That meant that Cordelia was left as the odd person out. It explained why she was suddenly going out on dates with men that were obviously ill suited for her.

Wesley was very grateful when Gunn appeared in the doorway, dressed in a clean button-down and slacks. Wesley had never given a thought to Gunn dressing higher than the station life had given him, but there he was looking vaguely uncomfortable. Wesley suddenly wanted to cuddle up to him, hug him and make him smile.

"Hey." Gunn greeted with a smile.

"Hello." Wesley stood and walked over to him, feeling like a teenage girl preparing for prom. It was ridiculous, but the pure happiness that coursed through his body when Gunn reached out to take hold of his hand was sweeter than anything Wesley had ever felt.

"Come on, let's get out of here." Gunn suggested, his eyes darting over to the office where Cordelia was still glaring at Doyle. "...Preferably before she goes ballistic in our presence."

"That sounds like a good plan to me." Wesley agreed.

"Doyle, I don't want to talk about it anymore!" Cordelia screeched as they slipped through the door. Wesley was thankful when the door closed, blocking out the sound. His ears throbbed for a moment.

“You okay?” Gunn asked, watching as Wesley rubbed one of his ears.

“Yes, I’ll be fine.” Wesley winced slightly. “Though, I do believe I’ve found a negative side effect to having advanced hearing.”

"Did you have any place in particular that you wanted to go to?" Gunn asked as they walked toward his truck.

"There is a small coffee shop a few blocks away." Wesley provided as they climbed into the truck. He watched Gunn start the engine, the sound roaring into his ears and vibrating through his body. He paused, waiting to get used to the feeling, before continuing. "I thought we could start there."

"Sounds good." Gunn grinned.

Wesley tried to remind himself that he was an intellect, not a creature of instinct and emotion. His human side--Wasn't it a funny thing to realize that humanity was only a vague part of who he now was?--didn't appreciate the sense of giddiness and romance that this entire event was triggering. He had never been in this sort of situation before, after all. The Watcher's Council always frowned on dating, and after being fired he hadn't encountered more than a single night of semi-bliss between Sunnydale and Angel Investigations.

Sitting next to Gunn, who had a happy look in his eyes, Wesley found all logic leaving him. Intellect, it seemed, was no longer in charge of Wesley's mental stability. Instinct told him to forget about friendliness and coffee, to take what was his and make Gunn own him in return. The thought was horrifying, not so much in what the emotion wished but in the strength it used to soar through his veins. 

Coffee was a simple drink that enabled those who had it to fall into a comfortable conversation. Wesley suspected that was why coffee houses had become so popular. In the age of technology, this was the last cry of real human-to-human contact. Across the table sat Gunn, who sipped his white chocolate mocha and eyed the businessmen sitting a few tables away. Whether it was because Gunn expected them to make some sort of remark or the glances were out of habit, Wesley didn't know. He didn't much care, either.

"Isn't that a bit sweet?" Wesley found himself asking, gesturing toward the mocha. His coffee was dreadfully boring, tall and black with just enough sugar to add an underlying hint of sweetness. Wesley forced himself to not think any sort of inappropriate thoughts concerning how he liked his men.

"Nah, man, this is the best." Gunn replied, with a grin. 

"You're always happy." Wesley observed. He blushed, but couldn’t seem to stop himself from continuing. "I mean, you have your brooding moments like everyone else, but every time I see you you've got this smile on your face."

"Have you ever thought, English, that maybe I'm happy to see you?" Gunn asked. Wesley looked down at his coffee and smiled. Gunn was flirting with him.

 

Doyle made a stack out of the invoices Cordelia had printed out earlier and then he lined them up one by one, all before placing them into a stack once more. He could feel Angel's gaze on him as he repeated his movements. The vampire took in a loud, un-needed breath. “Are you planning on ignoring me all night?”

“No, I’m trying to come up with enough courage to talk to you, actually.” Doyle admitted. He let out a sigh. “Look, Angel, this is hard stuff. Not only do I not know what’s going on, but I’m also starting to doubt what’s real or not. So, forgive me if I’m a little stressed.”

“I know.” Angel replied, frowning. “I just wish you would tell me some of these things.”

“Angel, man, you know I love you.” Doyle said, softly. “Don’t forget that, no matter what is about to happen. Some strange crap is going around. I don’t know if it’s because of what happened in Sunnydale or before, but it’s happening.”

Doyle finally set down the invoices and walked around the desk. He debated moving toward Angel for a moment, not sure if he wanted to create any intimacy when there was so much that Angel didn’t know. Angel obviously noticed the hesitancy and a look of pain washed over his face. Unable to take that expression, Doyle stepped towards the vampire, bringing their chests into contact. Angel slowly lifted his arms and pulled Doyle into an embrace. 

“Doyle, I—“ Angel started. He cut himself off when Doyle suddenly stiffened within his arms. Doyle jerked away from him, eyes fluttering closed. “Doyle!”

”Five are without time.” The words echoed through his brain as the image of vampires chained to a wooden box filled his vision. “Yet they live.”

“What do you see?” Angel asked, cradling Doyle’s head in his lap. Doyle’s eyes opened momentarily, showing only the whites of his eyes.

”Lindsey, give me the scroll.” Doyle wanted to scream at Angel to not do what he knew was going to happen. It was wrong; it was something that would affect Angel more than the vampire would be willing to admit. Doyle flinched as Lindsey’s hand became severed. He couldn’t bring himself to watch Angel walk away from the bleeding lawyer.

He didn’t want to see anymore. He’d seen it before, just the other day. Why was it repeating itself? Was this so important in the scheme of things? “We are very pleased you are here.” No. Oh God, no. It couldn’t be her, could it? She’s what Wolfram and Hart had resurrected? “Darla.”

Angel struggled to keep a firm hold on Doyle, wrapping his legs around the man’s thighs and pinning him to the ground. Normally it would have been a simple task, but Doyle was fighting him with the strength that came from his demon side. 

“Angel? What’s happening?” Gunn’s voice broke through Angel’s concentration. “Shit, another one?”

“Is there anything we can do?” Wesley asked, hovering over him. Angel shook his head, saying nothing and pressing his nose against the back of Doyle’s ear.

”Why are you so good to me, after everything I did?” Doyle wanted to vomit or hit something. Angel was so weak here, in this vision world. Would his Angel fall so easily under temptation? Would he rather have Darla than…? “Because you and I are one.”

Doyle’s eyes snapped open and his body stopped twitching and jerking. Gasping for breath, Doyle pushed his way out of Angel’s embrace. He sat, with his back against the counter, and closed his eyes. Wesley took a step back, moving closer to Gunn and allowing Angel and Doyle the space they might need.

“Perhaps we should leave them alone.” Wesley suggested.

“That might be a good idea.” Gunn agreed, slipping his arm around Wesley’s waist. “Come on, I’ll walk you to your room.”

Wesley cast one last look toward Doyle and Angel, who were now watching each other with unease, before following Gunn up the stairs and to his bedroom. They reached the door quickly and Wesley found himself with literally nothing to say. Instead, he nervously pushed his back against the door and stared up at Gunn, waiting for some kind of cue.

“I had a great time, English.” Gunn said, softly. Wesley nodded in agreement, finding that words wouldn’t come to him. He had a strong urge to tilt his head back and bare his neck to Gunn. Yet, he didn’t understand its meaning or why he wanted to do it, so he fought the desire. Wesley wasn’t the type to simply give in to something; he wanted information first.

Wesley was so caught up in his thoughts that, at first, he didn’t notice Gunn leaning in toward him. Wesley blinked, his eyes meeting Gunn’s, before he gave into the temptation and met Gunn half way. The kiss was soft, barely a brush of lips. Yet, underneath was a current of passion that Wesley could literally feel building upon itself. He felt Gunn’s hands slide across his hips, gently pinning him against the door. The heat of Gunn’s body melted against Wesley, bringing forth a groan from deep within Wesley’s chest.

Their lips parted and tongues tentatively slid along one another. Wesley’s hands clenched at Gunn’s shoulders, flexing when Gunn bit down on his lower lip. Suddenly, Wesley felt something vibrating deep within his chest. Gunn jerked back in shock, eyes widening. “What in the—“

“I—I think I’m—“ Wesley cut himself off as the vibrating sound grew. 

“You’re purring.” Gunn stated, breaking into a wide grin. 

“I suppose I am.” Wesley said, nervously. Gunn sent him a slight smirk, before kissing him briefly on the lips. The purr sped up a notch at the contact.

“I should get going.” Gunn whispered, his forehead leaning forward in order to rest against Wesley’s.

“Yes, you probably should.” Wesley agreed, smiling slightly. Gunn took a step away. “I’ll see you, err, tomorrow?”

“Sounds good.” Gunn agreed, before turning on his heel and sauntering down the hallway. Wesley watched him go, the dull purr emitting from his chest slowing to a stop once Gunn was out of view, before turning toward his door. With a smile on his lips, Wesley entered his room and prepared for bed. Tomorrow they could deal with what Doyle had seen, but for now Wesley was going to enjoy the moment of happiness fate had bestowed him.


	7. Chapter 7

Once again Wesley found himself in the library, surrounded by books. The scent of parchment and leather binding attacked his nose, nearly overwhelming him. Yet, it wasn’t uncomfortable. The library was easily considered his domain, a small space in the pride’s territory that belonged to him. 

At the current moment, Wesley was once again searching for an explanation for Doyle’s ailment. He had searched through most of their books regarding visionaries and spells, but had yet to find what he needed. Letting out a soft sigh, Wesley took a sip of his tea and leaned back in his chair. He was overlooking something, he was certain. The question, of course, was what? 

Wesley pulled his notes toward him. Doyle’s visions weren’t planned out, it seemed. In fact, they were amazingly random. Could it be that they were random for a reason?

“Hey, Wes.” Cordelia greeted, interrupting Wesley’s thoughts. She strode over and sat down in the chair next to him, heaving a dramatic sigh as she did so. Wesley’s instincts immediately kicked into gear and he turned to give her his full attention, ready to do anything that would aid the pride as a whole. 

“Is something wrong?” Wesley asked.

“I’m attractive, right?” Cordelia raised an eyebrow, looking as though she were slowly slipping into pissed off mode. Wesley wasn’t sure whether he wanted to stop what could turn into a rant before it started, or let Cordelia have some fun.

“Yes…” Wesley said, before trailing off. 

“You’d go out with me, right?” Cordelia pressed.

“Well, I… At one time, Cordelia, I would have been honored to go out with you.” Wesley admitted. Cordelia made a gesture for him to go on. Wesley had to wonder when he had been stuck with the job of boosting Cordelia’s ego. Then, of course, he realized that if he didn’t do it then no one else would. Wesley couldn’t imagine Angel or Gunn praising her. “If I wasn’t… Involved, then I might even consider you as a mate even now.”

“Wait, did I just hear you say—“ Cordelia cut herself off in order to squeal. “Involved? You mean you and Gunn, right?”

“Err, yes?” 

“It’s about damn time.” Cordelia slapped his shoulder, causing him to wince. She settled back into her chair with a smug expression. “Now, what was it you were saying about mates?”

“Well, seeing how you’re a member of the pride it would be logical that, if I wasn’t with Gunn, I would consider you next.” Wesley said, with a slight blush. He cleared his throat, attempting to not let himself fall into a pit of embarrassment. “Was there a particular reason you brought this up? Did something happen?”

“He turned me down!” Cordelia announced, looking confused. “I don’t get it. He wasn’t married and he didn’t say that he was dating someone. He just looked me up and down in the sort of way that makes you feel dirty and laughed--laughed!--when I asked him if he wanted to go out, can you believe that?”

“Not at all.” Wesley admitted. Cordelia was a beautiful woman, as well as smart and classy. In fact, Wesley often enjoyed her company now that she had matured. “Maybe it wasn’t meant to be.”

“I don’t care about that, Wes.” Cordelia insisted. “The point is that he turned me down. Me!” Cordelia let out a frustrated sigh and stared hard at the table. After a moment of silence, she turned back toward him. “So, what are we doing?”

“We—or rather I—were about to start searching for demons that can affect visions of someone else.” Wesley supplied.

“Ah, Doyle research, then?” Cordelia asked, snatching up a book. 

With that said, they fell into an easy silence. Wesley forced himself to focus on the words before him, though his senses were suddenly on edge. The content moment he had felt earlier was gone, as Cordelia’s stress had made itself apparent. Wesley was beginning to think there was something different about the demon that had tainted him. Instead of feeling as though he had no place within this group he was starting to view himself as a sort of glue, trying to hold everyone together. The idea was more than a little worrying. Trying to keep this pride together would be a lot of work, after all.

“I have a question.” Cordelia said after a moment, her voice breaking through the sound of pages turning. “If we find out what kind of demon it is… Well, doesn’t that still leave why it’s doing this?”

“Yes, I’ve been wondering that myself.” Wesley agreed. "I suspect we should take this one step at a time and worry about the technicalities when we reach them."

"A plan I am down with." Cordelia nodded, grabbing another book.

Yet again, silence met Wesley's ears. He tried to focus on the text before him, his brain automatically translating the Latin into English with an ease that had made many fellow Watchers envious of him when the Council employed him. He wondered, briefly, what they would have to say about his current predicament. The thought of their reaction made a bubble of laughter drift up his throat, but he managed to hold it down. He didn't want to interrupt Cordelia, who seemed to be taking the research seriously and would not appreciate something breaking her concentration.

Wesley found his thoughts drifting, much to his aggitation. He had promised Doyle he would search for answers and yet here he was thinking about Charles Gunn, wondering if there would be a second date. He felt like a schoolboy fantasizing over his crush, though a small voice in the back of his head growled and insisted that it wasn't a crush and instead it was a permanent relationship. They were mates. Though, Wesley wasn't certain if Gunn realized that or not. 

To be honest, the idea that Gunn couldn't feel the link that Wesley felt connecting them had never crossed his mind. It was possible that this was a side affect of being, essentially, part-lion.

"Umm, Wes?" Cordelia broke through his thoughts, causing him to jerk in surprise. 

"Yes?" Wesley asked, clearing his throat. "Did you find something?"

"I'm not sure." Cordelia slid the book across the table, planting it in front of Wesley. He put his own book to the side and began reading.

He couldn't help reading the passage over again, before feeling a bit annoyed. He had spent at least two days researching this, with no results. Yet, the moment Cordelia began helping him she spotted it. It was enough to make him feel like a bad academic. He looked up at Cordelia and quirked a smile. "I do believe you've found what we were looking for."

 

"From the information we have gathered and what Doyle has told me about these visions, I have concluded that this is our demon." Wesley looked at the group gathered before him. It felt oddly like a war meeting in some underground facility. Or, perhaps, a congregation of lions--and a lioness--on a tree lined savannah plain, right before the hunt. Wesley wasn't sure which, but it didn't matter. Wesley handed the book, opened at the wood carved image of their demon, to Doyle.

"You planning on telling us what this is?" Doyle asked, giving Angel the book.

"It's a demon originating somewhere in the Middle East." Wesley stated. "The Argeul are highly intelligent and have strong psychic abilities."

"Yeah, but, how is that affecting Doyle?" Gunn asked, frowning. Wesley fought down the urge to kiss the frown away. Honestly, he was at work and shouldn't behave in such a way.

"That would be the fact that they can screw with other psychics." Cordelia announced. "And we're not talking about giving a person false visions or strange thoughts."

"Ah, yes, Cordelia is right." Wesley rubbed at the back of his neck. "One reference indicates that they have the power to open trans-demensional rifts, but due to the fact that their strength is in their mind that is where the rifts are located as well."

"Whoa, like portals?" Gunn clarified, eyes widening. "In someone's head?"

"Not head." Wesley said. "Mind. That is, where we think and feel or, in Doyle's case, where he recieves his visions." Wesley paused, watching as they absorbed what he told them. Angel was looking the most confused, but Wesley trusted the next piece of information would help. "I think that the Argeul is opening a 'portal' and showing Doyle things, as though they were visions. They're not visions, not exactly."

"Well? What are they?" Doyle demanded.

"Memories, possibly fragments of what's to come." Wesley replied. "However, they don't classify as visions because they're in another timeline. The Watcher's Council had a theory, which wasn't very popular to be honest, that every choice we make creates a new universe. This demon is showing you what's happening in a parallel world, starting with you dying instead of living."

"I don't get it." Angel spoke up. "Why would the Argeul want to mess with Doyle's head so much? Doesn't this seem kind of random to you?"

"It's not." Doyle said, his eyes refusing to look at Angel. "You have to admit I've been withdrawn from you since this started."

"Exactly." Cordelia said, her tone smug as she stepped into Wesley's space and took over the conversation. "That's why I did a little research and, thanks to a quick phone call to Willow in Sunnydale for tips, managed to hack into the demon database of Wolfram and Hart."

"Let me guess? They've got themselves an Argeul." Gunn stated.

"Yeah, paid and everything. Whatever it is they're planning, it's enough to pay this demon a pretty hefty salary." Cordelia informed them.

"Which brings us to this question: what are we going to do about it?" Wesley asked.

"Simple." Angel said, standing. "We go in and--"

"What? Kick everyone's ass and then be home in time for dinner?" Gunn interrupted. "Angel, man, remember? They have vampire detectors and you don't have a renegade lawyer to give you all the special access codes. We need to think about this for a moment."

Wesley was shocked to find himself feeling the urge to tell Gunn to behave, that Angel was their pride alpha and they had to obey him. Clamping his jaw shut in order to keep from embarrassing himself, Wesley watched as Doyle stood up and approached Angel.

"Hey, Angel, come on." Doyle slipped an arm around Angel's waist, burying his face briefly against Angel's shirt. It was the most contact Wesley had seen them give each other in a long time. Doyle pulled away after a moment, giving Angel a vague smile. "Let's take some time, yeah? We need to plan--"

"Grab him!" Gunn yelled as Doyle gave a sudden lurch backward. Angel reached out a snatch him before he could tumble to the ground, arms cradling Doyle to his chest as Doyle pressed a palm to his forehead and grit his teeth.

It was over in seconds, as Doyle's real visions often were. The half-demon let out a guttural moan, pushing himself from Angel's hold only to collapse on the lobby's sofa with his eyes closed and face tense. After a moment, watery green eyes looked up at them, only to clench closed once more from the light. "Damn, that hurts."

"What did you see?" Wesley asked. 

"I can't--" Doyle started to rub at his temples, trying to push the pain in his head farther away so he could concentrate. Wesley was shocked to see Angel crouch down next to him, gently pushing his hands to the side so he could massage Doyle's temples for him. It was refreshing to watch, Wesley had to admit. While his human side insisted it was ridiculous to base the idea of romance off of these two, his newly found animal instincts were dependant on the alpha pair in their pride to show what love and companionship was.

Slowly, Doyle pulled Angel's hands away. The two looked at each other, their eyes hidden to Wesley, though he longed to know what they were mentally telling each other. Finally, Doyle looked up. "We've got a few hours. Whatever's going down it doesn't happen until later on tonight."


	8. Chapter 8

Wesley wasn't that shocked to discover that Doyle's vision led them to a pack of demons terrorizing the docks. They gathered behind one of the office buildings, peeking around it to watch the four demons harass the dock workers, demanding something in their native tongue. Despite the darkness, Wesley could see as though it were cloudy day. He assumed this was because of his catlike pupils. 

The demons were large, with two horns protruding from their foreheads. Even from thirty yards away, Wesley could see a yellow liquid dripping from the ends. Wesley took a step back, causing the other three to look at him in question. "I suggest we avoid contact with their horns. I'm unable to identify what type of demon they are, but it's better to be safe than sorry."

"Right." Gunn nodded and shift his axe from one hand to the other. "Let's do this."

Wesley had been trained in some forms of combat during his employment at the Watcher's Council. He was a natural at guns and the crossbow, though he wasn't sure how he managed to aim so well. It was a mystery that he had always been grateful to have. Now, though, Wesley found himself wanting to fight with his bare hands. He wanted to rip something open, allowing guts to cascade down onto the ground.

His body seemed to vibrate from the excitement. He could feel where Angel and Doyle were, their scents filling the air as they moved. He kept Gunn in view, just off to the corner of his eye. Gunn seemed to make fighting look like an aggressive dance, filled with testosterone and determination. It made Wesley hot under the collar, sweat forming at the base of his spine as he wanted and needed to touch and receive.

He focused on the fight, pushing thoughts of Gunn's agile body out of his head. His crossbow was easily knocked out of his hands. Thankfully, he had had the presence of mind to strap a short sword to his belt before they left. The metal sung in his grip as he attacked the demon. Burnt ochre blood fell to the ground as his opponent lost an arm.

Wesley backed up, panting through his mouth. The demon before him, scale-like skin shimming under obvious tension, advanced, only to have its head suddenly fall off it's body. Angel sent him a slight smile, before spinning around and helping Doyle. Wesley turned toward Gunn, just in time to see his opponent's head butt him in the shoulder. Gunn let out a cry of pain, falling to his knees. 

Wesley rushed over, immediately wrapping his arm around Gunn's torso and pulling the injured shoulder closer for inspecting. The yellow liquid was quickly eating its way through Gunn's clothes and the first few layers of skin. Wesley took in a shuddering breath. "Charles, listen to me! I need you to take off your shirt and try to rinse out the wound."

"Yeah." Gunn nodded through gritted teeth. Wesley helped him up, gently directing him toward one of the docks. Sure, the ocean water there wouldn't be the cleanest in the world, but a minor bacterial infection was a lot easier to take care of than a severe acid burn. Wesley watched him start to walk, his mind already turning toward other matters.

Angel and Doyle were finishing off their last demon, while the other was beginning to move in Gunn's direction. Wesley waited until the demon's side was facing him before he stormed forward and thrust the sword into its flesh. The demon howled, teetering around and lashing out with sharp claws.

Instinct took over. Wesley bared his teeth and let out a roar, the sound echoing off of the empty buildings. He felt his blood boiling with anger. A red haze seemed to cover his vision and all he could see was the creature before him. The sword was forgotten as Wesley attacked with a strength that he didn't realize he had. Speed and adrenaline kicked in and, moving faster than he would have thought possible, Wesley went in for the kill.

The demon's skin tasted like rotten eggs. It's blood filled Wesley's mouth, only to spill out from the corners as Wesley bit down hard on the demon's neck. The demon flailed, trying to buck him off, but the lack of oxygen was quickly taking over its body. Wesley fell to the ground with it, pinning its shoulders against the cement. He could feel its muscles twitching, fighting for air. Then, finally, it stopped. Wesley held on for a moment longer, before slowly prying his teeth out of its flesh and sitting back. 

"Was anyone else totally freaked out by that?" Doyle's soft brogue asked.

"English?" Wesley looked up to find Gunn standing next to him. The man looked wobbly on his feet, as though a good wind would send him tumbling. Wesley stood and immediately wrapped his arms around Gunn for support, enjoying the feel of Gunn's bare skin against his hands.

"We should head home." Angel said. Wesley slipped his arm around Gunn's waist in case he needed help walking and turned to follow the others to the car.

 

"Oh, gross!" Cordelia exclaimed when she spotted Wesley. Her nose scrunched up in obvious distaste as she peered at his face. "What's all over your mouth? It looks like... Well, I don't know, but it's nasty."

"Wesley got in touch with his wild side." Doyle offered, throwing himself onto the lobby's couch. 

"...Meaning?" Cordelia demanded, hands on hips.

"He took down one of the demons, is all." Doyle explained. Wesley felt himself begin to flush and began wiping at his face, trying to remove the demon's blood. "It was like watching those National Geographic specials."

"Wait..." Cordelia's eyes drifted up to the ceiling as she tried to figure out exactly what Doyle meant. "You mean to tell me that Wesley tackled a demon and then choked it with his mouth?"

"In a matter of speaking." Wesley whispered.

"Oh, well, good for you." Cordelia said, giving a nervous chuckled. "Strange and, okay, gross, but still good. Oh, and why is Gunn naked?"

"I'm wearing jeans." Gunn protested, though his voice didn't hold the normal amount of defensiveness it normally would. 

"He got injured." Wesley stated, grabbing a hold of Gunn and turning him toward the stairs. "Now if you'll excuse us, I need to clean his wound out properly instead of ordering him to take a swim."

Wesley led Gunn upstairs, shocked that Gunn didn't protest along the way. Gunn went willingly, allowing him to push Gunn down onto his bed. He gathered the first aid kit that no demon hunter was without, pausing long enough to wipe the blood off his face, before setting the kit down next to Gunn and inspecting the acid burn. It was beginning to blister and looked like it would classify as at least a second-degree burn. Wesley didn't bother to ask if Gunn wanted to go to the hospital and, instead, began to clean the wound thoroughly.

"Your eyes were gold." Gunn said, softly. Wesley glanced up to find Gunn watching him with a thoughtful expression. "Not now, but earlier when you..."

"Yes, well, I wasn't exactly myself." Wesley replied.

"No, I think you were." Gunn insisted. Wesley took in a deep breath through his nose, pulling in the scent of Gunn. The man didn't give off any fear, just curiosity and a hint of desire. Wesley gulped. "I've never seen you fight like that before."

"Yes, well, I'm not entirely incompetent--" Wesley started.

"That's not what I meant." Gunny interrupted. He winced as Wesley spread ointment across the burn. Gunn closed his eyes a moment, waiting until Wesley had bandaged him up before continuing. "I guess what I mean to say is that I've never had the reaction I had tonight, watching you fight."

"I don't understand your meaning." Wesley admitted. Gunn didn't reply. Instead, he leaned forward and captured Wesley's mouth with his own.

Wesley immediately fell into the sensation of Gunn's lips sliding across his own, of his tongue slipping into his mouth. Desire coiled at his stomach as Gunn's arms slid around his waist and pulled him into Gunn's lap. He was careful to avoid the bandage on Gunn's shoulder as he drew his hands across Gunn's bare chest and behind Gunn's neck. Finally, they pulled away for air.

"Do you have any idea what you do to me?" Gunn asked, his voice thick and throaty.

"Pretty much the same thing you do to me, I suspect." Wesley offered.

"Yeah." Gunn agreed. He smiled softly, before reaching up and pulling off Wesley's glasses. "Let me know if I'm going to fast--"

"You're not." Wesley insisted, leaning forward to place a sift kiss on Gunn's lips. "I don't need to be coddled, though I appreciate the gesture." Gunn opened his mouth to deny any coddling, but Wesley continued. "I'm part animal now and I've accepted that. Still, there are certain aspects of this animal nature that I've had to repress, because I wasn't sure if you wanted them. Tonight, I defended my mate. You have no idea how good that felt, Charles."

Wesley paused in order to relish in the sly grin Gunn gave him. It appeared he wasn't the only one who enjoyed the earlier battle. Then, Wesley looked down, his eyes traveling across Gunn's chest, past his bellybutton and to the zipper of his jeans. Wesley fought down a blush. "I have also fought down the urge to... Well, mate with you."

"Oh." 

"Yes, well, animals consummate their feelings for one another through physical touch." Wesley explained. "I've wanted to do that with you the moment you kissed me, to be completely honest, but I was afraid it would scare you away."

"Not possible, English." Gunn informed him, softly. Wesley shivered, though whether it was from Gunn's tone or the nickname he wasn't positive.

Later, the beginning would seem like a blur to him. Gunn's hands trailing up his spine, pulling off his shirt. Their clothing slowly becoming a pile on the floor as slick skin rubbed against slick skin. Gunn's body was a subtle form of perfection: young and limber with skin that begged to be tasted. Wesley did a lot of tasting. 

Pheromones were thick in the air, sending Wesley into a place of constant arousal as it mixed with the spicy scent of Gunn. Wesley pulled Gunn down against him, their naked bodies pressing close together. He could feel Gunn's cock, hard and already leaking with pre-come, pressing alongside his own. Wesley groaned, kissing Gunn on the lips and slipping his tongue inside. 

Wesley tilted his head back as Gunn's mouth trailed across his jaw, before sucking on the juncture between neck and shoulder. A soft vibration erupted from deep within his chest and he was amazed to hear Gunn groan at the sound of his purring. Gunn pulled back, their eyes meeting. "Call me insane, man, but that is the most erotic sound I have ever heard."

Wesley didn't reply, but he sent Gunn a wide smile before rolling his hips upward and relishing in the low moan Gunn offered in return. Gunn dove back down for another kiss, their erections rubbing against each other in sweet friction. Wesley yanked his head back, gasping. "We need... Please."

"Where?" Gunn asked, automatically knowing that Wesley meant lubricant. Wesley was momentarily caught off guard by the fact that they were already finishing each other's thoughts, before replying.

"Use the ointment." Wesley ordered.

Gunn leaned over and snatched the burn ointment from the floor. "This is kind of kinky."

"We can purchase the appropriate forms of lubrication later." Wesley offered, his purr subsiding.

"Only you could sound polite while laying on a bed naked." Gunn grinned. Wesley didn't bother to give Gunn a response, mostly because Gunn's fingers--suddenly slick with lubricant--were trailing up the back of his thigh.

Suddenly, everything seemed to sharpen. He could see the soft glisten of sweat along Gunn's chest. He could see the bright contrast of the white bandage against Gunn's dark skin. The strong scent of desire hung in the air. Wesley felt overwhelmed. It was too much, every sense was overloading as Gunn's finger slipped inside of him. 

"English?" Gunn asked, his eyes looking worried. Wesley blinked and looked at him, before gently pulling him down into a kiss. He gasped into Gunn's mouth as that finger began to move in and out.

It was impossible to tell when the second finger joined the first. It was a constant burn, and insistent twist of pleasure that captured Wesley's sense of reality. He could only moaned into Gunn's mouth, the purr in his chest returning in full force. 

And suddenly Gunn was there, pressed against him and pushing forward. Wesley arched his back like cat as Gunn's cock thrust inside of him. Gunn hovered above him, panting hard and waiting for a sign that he could move. Wesley kissed him, softly, before planting his feet on the bed and pushing his hips upwards, sending Gunn even deeper.

Gunn began to thrust, bringing shockwaves of pleasure up Wesley's spine. Wesley groaned, the sound mingling with the purr. He tilted his head back, enjoying the feel of Gunn's tongue sliding across his neck. Soon, the thrusts became harder, deeper, and almost frantic. It was like Gunn was trying to climb inside of him and if Wesley was honest he would have let Gunn do just that. Wesley hands reached up and gripped the headboard for support as the power behind each thrust nearly sent him sliding across the bed.

It was over too soon. The pleasure and feeling built up so quickly and soon he was tumbling over that edge, sparks literally erupting before his eyes. He distantly felt Gunn collapse on top of him, a comforting weight that he didn't want to lose. He closed his eyes; hands trailing down Gunn's sweat covered back. 

So, this is what it meant to feel complete.


	9. Chapter 9

Wesley wasn’t used to sharing a bed with another body. The sensation of hot skin pressed against his own was strange and new, but he couldn’t say that he hated it. Gunn was curled up against his back, arm thrown over Wesley's waist possessively and nose buried against Wesley's neck. Wesley forced his eyes to remain closed. He wanted to savor everything.

However, all good things must come to an end and soon they were getting up and leaving the bedroom. Wesley was pleased to find that his own scent covered Gunn, marking him. Wesley smiled to himself as he entered the lobby, Gunn trailing behind him. Cordelia was sitting at the front desk, reading a magazine and sipping mocha from a Styrofoam cup.

"I'm out of here," Gunn announced, leaning over to quickly kiss Wesley on the cheek. Wesley blushed and sent him a slight smile. Grinning, Gunn sauntered toward the door and left.

"You didn't," Cordelia insisted, eyes widening. "Wesley! You and... Wow. That's...a lot more than I wanted to know about a guy."

"Technically, I didn't tell you anything," Wesley replied.

"Still, it's pretty obvious," Cordelia informed him. "...So, what was it like?"

"Cordelia!" Wesley sputtered, turning bright red. "That's not something I'm going to discuss with you, I'm sorry."

"You guys are no fun," Cordelia grumbled. "I'm going to have to call Xander to get the dish on him and Spike's sex life just to get any entertainment."

Wesley shook his head and walked around the counter to reach for a small stack of books he had left there the day before. It was time to get back to researching Doyle's problem. While they had most of the information down, he still needed to find the Arguel that was affecting Doyle's visions. He didn't think Wolfram and Hart was keeping the Arguel at their branch location. Most likely it was in a personal home, a place that it felt comfortable enough in. 

Wesley picked up one of the books, looking up as Doyle suddenly came storming down the stairs. The shorter man was pulling on his coat, face tense. "Doyle?"

Doyle came to a halt in front of them, eyes darting between Wesley and Cordelia. He paused, debating something, before speaking. "I had another one of those visions. I'm sorry, I can't...I just need some air."

"What did you see?" Cordelia asked.

"Darla," Doyle said simply, as though his words weren't causing emotional turmoil. Wesley knew differently, he could smell the pain radiating off of Doyle. "Angel fired you guys and chose her."

"It's not real--" Cordelia started.

"But it could be!" Doyle snapped. "You don't get it...I saw...I'll never be able to burn that image out of my mind. The two of them, pressed against each other, under the sheets, ripping the clothing off of each other." Doyle clenched his eyes closed, head dropping. "I know I shouldn't, but I feel like he's cheated on me... I just need some time, some space."

Doyle turned on his heal and continued his original path to the door, though now he was moving at a slower pace, as though he didn't have the energy to move any faster. Wesley looked back down at the book in his hands. He felt like he had to do something. He couldn't let the alpha pair of his pride destroy themselves.

"Wow," Cordelia said softly, once the door had shut behind Doyle. "I can't believe this. I never thought I'd hear the day that Angel would cheat on Doyle, even if it was in another universe. They seemed so..."

"Semper fidelis," Wesley muttered. He glanced at Cordelia. "It means always faithful."

"Yeah...that," Cordelia agreed. "What should we do?"

"I don't think, as far as they are concerned, we can do anything," Wesley admitted. "Doyle is going to have to deal with Angel's faithfulness on his own. As for the Arguel, however, we can do something."

"You've got a plan, then?" Cordelia asked.

"In a matter of speaking," Wesley stated.

 

The club wasn't a place that Wesley often frequented, but he wasn't shocked when he entered the establishment to find around a dozen or so demons. Wesley scanned the crowd, before moving toward the bar and sitting at an empty chair. He accepted a cold beer from the bartender, momentarily missing England and their unique beer brews.

Music was playing from the stage, where a tall demon with a bright blue tail was singing softly in tune with the music. Wesley was shocked to find the demon actually had a nice voice. The last few times he had visited he had been horrified to hear many a song butchered.

"Oh, please, sweetheart," a jovial voice protested. Wesley looked over to see a green demon with red horns staring at him. "I can feel your worry across the room."

"Lorne," Wesley greeted. "I need some information."

"Diving right into the deep end, I see," Lorne sighed. The demon tilted his head, eyeing Wesley carefully. "I should ask you to sing for me."

"No," Wesley stated sternly. He'd sung for Lorne once before and it was an experience he did not want to repeat.

"Ah, well, what's the stitch, cutie?" Lorne asked, sliding onto the chair next to his. "Is something bad happening in Angel Land?"

"I need to know if you are aware of any Arguels in the area," Wesley said. Lorne's eyes widened, letting Wesley know that he did know what demon Wesley was talking about. "They're interfering with Angel and Doyle, making Doyle questions his faith in Angel."

"I don't know how comfortable I am sending you off to deal one of those without you having a reading first, sugar," Lorne pointed out.

"Just give me an address," Wesley replied. "We don't have the time to stand around singing lounge tunes."

Lorne let out an uneasy sigh. The demon stared at him a moment, before nodding and grabbing a napkin off of the bar. He scribbled something onto the napkin and folded it, but did not hand it over. "I have a bad feeling about this, Wesley."

"I'll be careful," Wesley said, gently taking the napkin from Lorne's fingertips.

"I hope so," Lorne replied. 

Wesley simply nodded and stood, not wanting to stay in the building any longer. The room was beginning to feel crowded and Wesley longed for space. He pushed his way to the door, stepping out and into the cool night. He took a deep breath, scenting the air, before he looked down at the address in his hand. The location wasn't far from Caritas, placed between the club and the Hyperion.

He pulled his coat around him tightly and began walking, not bothering with calling a cab. It was in the middle of happy hour for most bars, making finding a cab harder than the mile walk. Besides, Wesley was feeling the urge to stretch his legs. Footsteps echoing on the sidewalk, Wesley began his trek toward the home of the Arguel.

The address led him to a nice apartment building with a greeter at the door. The man welcomed Wesley as he entered, directing him toward the elevator. Wesley was used to demons living in sewers and warehouses. It was obvious this Arguel was selling his abilities to a high bidder, if it allowed him to live in what could be described as upper class for the demon community. 

Wesley checked the address one more time, before stuffing the napkin into his pocket and knocking on a door marked '2A'. He could hear rustling inside, followed by a chain lifting. The door opened a crack to reveal a couple inches of the Arguel's face. It was smooth and pale green, with pupils barely the size of a pinprick.

"Yeah, what is it?" a gruff voice demanded.

"I need to speak with you," Wesley informed him, "it's about a job."

The Arguel's eyes narrowed, before the door slammed shut. Wesley heard murmuring on the other side, but it was too low for even his new sense of hearing to understand. After a second the door reopening, this time all the way. The Arguel took a step back to allow him entrance.

Wesley stepped inside, sniffing the air. He could smell some other scent aside from the Arguel, but it was hard to determine its source. He watched his guest sit down on an overstuffed chair. Slender hands gestured for him to sit down. The Arguel shifted in his seat, almost nervously, causing the light to reflect off of a large purple gem attached to the top of its head.

"Get it over with, what do you want?" he asked, eyes darting around the room. 

"I was wondering if you could share some information with me," Wesley said, forcing an innocent expression on his face.

"Yeah? Like what kind of information?" The Arguel stood and walked over to the bar on the other side of the room. Wesley took this time to take in a deep breath, trying to figure out what the strange scent was. The Arguel smelled spicy, like he had bathed in nutmeg, but the other scent... It was tangy and sweet. Cologne, perhaps?

"I've been doing some preliminary research on your species," Wesley replied, watching as the Arguel poured himself a drink. "I thought the best way to figure out your living arrangements was to speak with one directly. A friend of a friend gave me your address."

"That doesn't answer my question, pretty boy," the Arguel said, turning to glare at him. 

"Yes, sorry." Wesley cleared his throat. "I was wondering what types of jobs you often received. I know your gift is oddly unique, so you must be approached by some big spending companies."

"Humph," the Arguel grunted, his eyes darting past Wesley. "We get along just fine in that arena. You can stop bouncing around the point, okay? I know why you're here. I'm not psychic for any reason, dumb ass."

"I'm sorry, I did not mean to insult you in any way--" Wesley began. The sound of a door opening cut him off. Moving faster than he normally would have before the infection, Wesley leapt to his feet and moved away from the door behind him. The Arguel laughed deeply and Wesley spun, trying to keep both the demon and the man stepping out of the bedroom in sight.

"Mr. Wyndham-Pryce, it's so nice to see you again." The man, dressed in an expensive suit, walked fully into the room, a briefcase dangling from his hand. Blue eyes met Wesley's. "Out of curiosity, did the burns scar or did your precious Angel save you in time?"

"That, I believe, is none of your business," Wesley replied in a hard tone. The scent of cologne was stronger and Wesley, not for the first time in his life, wished he had paid attention to his instincts. 

"I'm sure you think so," Lindsey McDonald replied with a smile that scent a chill down Wesley's spine. "I'm impressed you made it this far, actually. What with Doyle going into hysterics and Angel along with him. Why, if they didn't have you, then they'd probably be in real trouble."

"Then I suppose it's a good thing they have me," Wesley snapped. A hint of a hiss could be detected underneath his words.

"I'm afraid I can't let you leave," Lindsey informed him, as though he truly were sorry. Wesley grit his teeth and narrowed his eyes. "You know too much. That and the Senior Partners are pretty interested in these new features you've been sporting. Come on, Wesley, gold rimmed eyes? Can't you hide your anger better than that?"

Before Wesley could respond, he felt something in his brain open up, like his mind had suddenly accessed an unknown memory. Searing pain swept through his head as visions of death and blood erupted in his mind. He glanced over at the Arguel, the purple gem on the demon's head glowing bright. Unable to withstand the agony, Wesley dropped to the ground on his knees, hands clenched at his hair. 

The scent of cologne grew stronger; the sound of Lindsey's footsteps echoing in Wesley's ears at the man walked closer. Then, everything became black.


	10. Chapter 10

He didn't want to believe that he was awake, so he desperately kept his eyes shut. Wesley took in a breath, cataloguing all of the scents of the room and trying to establish where he was. It was obvious that he wasn't dreaming, despite how much he wished to be. 

His hands and ankles were bound by nylon rope. Wesley shifted his wrists, feeling the rope rub against his skin. The floor felt like cement. A basement? That meant they were no longer at the Arguel's apartment. Wesley leaned back, pressing himself against the cold, cement wall. He could smell mold due to the dampness in the room, as well as gasoline and a strong tang of metal.

Curiosity killed the cat, Wesley mused to himself as he finally opened his eyes. Large machines stood in rows in the large room. It wasn't a basement, but a warehouse and machine shop of some kind. Wesley didn't bother to identify the use of the machines; they probably constructed parts for cars or boats. 

Sighing, Wesley closed his eyes again and forced himself to remain calm. 

"You know it's a lie, don't you?" Lindsey's voice cut into Wesley's thoughts. Wesley looked up at the lawyer, scowling. "If you try to block everything out, things don't really go away. I'm still going to be here."

"Unfortunately," Wesley commented, bitterly.

"Ah, come now Wesley, you should be proud!" Lindsey grinned, crouching down to look Wesley directly in the eye. Wesley fought down the urge to hiss. "You researched and went out on your own to discover who the bad guy was and, check it out, you've found him."

"What do you want?" Wesley demanded, eyes flashing gold in annoyance and anger.

"Ooh, you are an interesting find," Lindsey said, tilting his head as he observed Wesley, "I think I know why the Senior Partners want you alive."

Wesley didn't reply, knowing that would only give Lindsey more ammo to insult him with. Instead he watched as Lindsey stood and walked away, keeping an eye on his captor in case there was any chance of escape. He subtly tried to pull at the ropes binding his wrists, but he knew that he wouldn't be able to rip apart the rope without alerting Lindsey to the fact. He would have to bide his time.

For once, Wesley wasn't feeling an ounce of patience.

"I thought the Senior Partners wanted Angel alive," Wesley said, as though making friendly conversation. 

Lindsey looked up from where he had been inspecting his cell phone and smirked. "Oh, they do. Except in their orders? Well, they never said he had to be psychologically whole. In fact, I'd like to think that the worst off Angel is, the more help he'll be to us."

"So you think that you can destroy Doyle and hurt Angel in the process," Wesley summarized, before snorting. "You don't understand emotions very well, do you Lindsey?"

"I understand them perfectly well," Lindsey replied, coldly.

"No, I don't think you do," Wesley continued, "because if you did then you'd know that this idiotic plan of yours would never work."

"And why is that?" Lindsey asked, obviously amused.

"Love," Wesley said, simply. He sent Lindsey a half smile, his own thoughts immediately bringing forth Gunn. Lindsey didn't know what he was dealing with. Wesley had never been one to buy into fairytale romance--most fairytales were based off of demons, anyway--but he understood that the pride stuck together and half of the reason they were so connected was because of love.

"How sentimental," Lindsey sneered. Wesley watch him turn away, flipping open the cell phone and dialing a number. There was a silence as the phone rang, before Lindsey glanced over at Wesley with a sow smile. "It's McDonald. Yes, I think it's time for another vision, don't you agree?"

 

Doyle felt the sharp pain in his head before his vision shifted, bringing forth yet another vision of a different place and time. His body fell back, hitting the lobby floor. Distantly he could hear Angel rush over to him, pulling him into a tight embrace. Yet he couldn't hear Angel speak, nor the normally shrill tone of Cordelia demanding what was going on. Doyle blinked and suddenly found himself lost in a vision that should not exist.

A female vampire -- Drusilla? -- stood next to Darla, saying gently. "I hear the sirens. They don't know if the world will be there in the morning."

Darla smiled, her voice cutting Doyle to the heart. "You could die here. Chances are you will." Lindsey, Doyle could see Lindsey among the lawyers. He had a plastic hand. Then, suddenly, Angel was there, but Doyle knew it wasn't his Angel. It would never be his Angel.

"Please, people are going to die." Doyle nearly wanted to laugh. This Angel didn't care about people dying; all he cared about was Darla. He didn't even remember Doyle.

"And yet, somehow, I just can't seem to care."

"Doyle, please!" Angel's voice cut through the one in Doyle's head, but Doyle couldn't respond. He felt the arms around him, holding him tightly, but he didn't feel safe. Doyle wasn't sure he'd ever feel safe around Angel again.

"Don't play games with me." Darla, again. Doyle wanted to turn away. He didn't want to see this again! Yet, he couldn't stop it, he couldn't keep Angel from doing this. 

"It doesn't matter. None of it matters." 

Doyle felt like crying as he watched as Angel and Darla stripped each other naked. This wasn't supposed to happen. Angel was his, Angel loved him, but it didn't matter. Angel was right, none of it mattered. This Angel didn't have Doyle; this Angel didn't remember him. 

"Don't fight it, my love."

Doyle shoved at the arms holding him, unable to bear Angel's touch. He scrambled away, staring at Angel with wide eyes. Angel's expression held worry and unease, but not regret. Doyle knew it was silly and not very reasonable of him, but he felt that Angel should be sorry for what he did.

"Doyle--" Angel started.

"Stay away from me," Doyle hissed, suddenly angry beyond recognition. He pushed himself to his feet, glaring down at Angel. "Just stay the hell away from me, Angel."

"What are you talking about?" Cordelia asked, but Doyle just ignored her. He watched as Angel stood and reached out for him, as though trying to pull him back into the madness and pain. Doyle jerked away.

"Please, don't touch me," Doyle whispered. "I can't do this anymore, Angel. I can't...I'm sorry."

"Doyle, what are you saying?" Angel demanded.

"It's over," Doyle said, simply and without any emotion. He stared at Angel for a moment, as though memorizing his face. Then, with a defeated slouch to his shoulders, he turned away and began walking for the door.

"No!" Angel growled, grabbing his arm before he could get too far. Doyle felt himself being jerked around, his chest suddenly pressed against Angel's. Doyle felt panic start to fill his heart and he struggled against Angel's hold. "Doyle, please, stop this!"

"Let me go!" Doyle yelled, finally shoving Angel away. He backed away toward the door, keeping an eye on Angel as he went. He couldn't take this, he just couldn't. The pain of seeing Angel and having that scene repeat in his mind over and over again, it was too much. "I don't want to see you. I can't love you anymore, Angel."

Taking one last look at Angel, Doyle pushed open the hotel's door and stepped out into the night.

 

Wesley closed his eyes, wondering if at that very moment Doyle was collapsing from yet another fake vision. He took in a deep breath, trying to release his anger before it ate away at him. He could hear Lindsey's footsteps walk closer to him. Something hard hit the ground near him and Wesley opened his eyes to see Lindsey's opened briefcase.

"Since I've got you here, I might as well get a bit more work done," Lindsey informed him, calmly. 

A large needle was pulled out of the briefcase, along with a band of rubber. Wesley tried to jerk away, but the ropes bound him too tightly. Lindsey smirked and wrapped the rubber around his upper arm, causing his veins to rise to the surface. As the needle punctured his skin, Wesley hissed at Lindsey, baring sharp teeth. 

"I've got to tell you, this new upgrade of yours? It's kind of sexy," Lindsey teased as he withdrew blood. Once he had enough, the rubber band was removed and the needle pulled out. Lindsey left the small wound there to bleed until it healed on its own.

Wesley narrowed his eyes at Lindsey, unable to truly vocalize how much he wanted to rip the man's head off.

"Now, you have fun here all by yourself," Lindsey said in a patronizing tone, "while I go give this to the Wolfram and Hart Science Department."

Wesley said nothing as he watched him leave. The moment Lindsey was out of sight, Wesley began to wiggle in an attempt to loosen the ropes. He was hoping that, if the ropes got loose enough, he could have enough leverage to use his newfound strength in order to get free. Of course, this was one of those times that life just wasn't going Wesley's way. Aside from Gunn, Wesley seemed to be having a lot of those recently.

Wesley sighed and looked around the warehouse once more, in search of something to help him. That was when he noticed the shadow along the far wall. Wesley sniffed at the air, but the scent of gasoline and metal was too strong for him to catch it. Wesley stopped moving, attempting to remain perfectly still as the shadow moved. 

The person wasn't large, allowing Wesley to rule out a demon. Still, it could be a vampire. That was the last thing Wesley needed to happen. Death via vampire bite wasn't how he had wanted to go out, that was for certain.

Suddenly, the shadow appeared from behind a large machine, moving closer. Light cascaded down from the ceiling lamps and Wesley broke into a smile. Gunn glanced around, before rushing over to him. "I can't believe you went and got yourself captured, English."

"It wasn't intentional," Wesley insisted, unable to develop any sense of annoyance due to the relief coursing through him. "How did you find me?"

"I just followed your trail," Gunn said with a grin as he cut off the ropes binding Wesley. Wesley rubbed at his wrists, trying to bring back the circulation. "For all of the book smarts that lawyer has, he isn't very good at covering his tracks."

The moment Wesley was free, he grabbed Gunn's collar and pulled him into a deep kiss. Gunn smiled against his lips just before their tongues met. Wesley growled low in his throat, biting down on Gunn's lower lips. Gunn pulled away, panting. "It's nice to know you missed me."

"We need to get out of here," Wesley said, standing.

"You can't just run off," Lindsey interrupted, stepping into the light. He looked rather smug as he stood there in his business suit, arms crossed. Behind him a small group of vampires appeared. "I can't let my plans go down hill, now can I?"

"Damn," Gunn muttered. He sent Wesley a grim smile. "Are you able to fight?"

"Trust me, Charles, I'm ready to rip someone apart," Wesley said in all honesty.


	11. Chapter 11

Wesley pressed his back against the wall, lungs straining for air. He could feel Gunn next to him, trying to keep him upright. Wesley turned toward Gunn, allowing the other man to pull him close. He looked over Gunn's shoulder, searching for any sign that they had been followed. "I think we're safe for now."

"I've never seen so many vampires in my life," Gunn gasped out. Wesley nodded, breathing in Gunn's scent. The initial number of vampire guards that Lindsey had were but a small number compared to the horde that had shown up once it was clear that Wesley and Gunn were achieving the better hand.

Let it never be said that Lindsey McDonald wasn't smart enough to know when to push harder.

"What now?" Gunn asked, pulling back to look at him. "Shit, English, you're bleeding."

"Am I?" Wesley asked, blinking as a droplet of blood fell from his forehead and into his eye. He wiped the blood away, smearing it across his face. Funny, he had not remembered hitting his head. "We need to get back to the hotel."

"Good idea," Gunn agreed. Gunn slipped his arm around Wesley's waist and gently pulled him in the direction of the Hyperion. "At least we now know who is behind this."

When they arrived at the Hyperion they found the lobby in disarray. One of the sofas was overturned and papers were scattered across the floor. Wesley immediately bent down to pick up a lone book, checking it for damage, before turning to look at the lone figure slumped in the corner. Glancing at Gunn, Wesley slowly walked forward and knelt down in front of the visibly shaking vampire.

"Angel?" Wesley whispered. Angel jerked, looking up at him with watery eyes. "What happened?"

Angel shook his head in response.

"Could you go find Cordelia and Doyle, please?" Wesley asked Gunn. The younger man looked at the two of them a moment, before giving a short nod and heading toward the offices. With a sigh, Wesley reached out to touch Angel's arm. "Do you wish to talk about it?"

Again, Angel shook his head. Wesley clenched his jaw and fought down the urge to hiss at him in frustration. 

"Doyle's gone, man," Gunn called over from the doorway leading into Angel's office. Behind him Wesley could see Cordelia sitting at the desk.

"Did you try calling him?" Wesley asked.

"He's not coming back," Angel croaked out. Wesley winced at Angel's tone. "He's never coming back."

"Yes, he is," Gunn snapped. Angel glared up at him. Gunn didn't seem to care as he walked over. "We've finally found the guy responsible for all of this, damn it. I'm not about to let him get away from it just because you won't get off your lazy ass and fight for your boyfriend."

"My mate is leaving me--" Angel started, growling as he stood.

Wesley stood, stepping between Angel and Gunn. His lip curled upward briefly flashing his fangs at Angel, before his face went emotionless. That was all the warning he gave Angel, knowing that there wasn't much of a chance that he would truly turn violent toward his alpha leader. Angel narrowed his eyes at Wesley, before looking over Wesley's shoulder at the human standing there, arms crossed and defiant.

"You have no idea what's happening here," Angel finally stated.

"Oh really?" Gunn snorted. "I know this much. If I were you, I'd be fighting to keep my mate around, instead of rolling over and taking it. If you really cared about Doyle you'd fight for him, but I don't think you do. Ever since that Slayer's death you've been pushing Doyle to the side like he's worthless. You don't love him. I don't think you know how to love."

Angel lunged forward, knocking Wesley to the side. Wesley's back hit the floor painfully, causing his healed wounds to twinge in response. He looked up to see Angel grabbing Gunn by the front of his shirt, lifting Gunn off his feet and pinning him to the wall.

"Angel!" Cordelia exclaimed from the background, but she made no move to stop him. She didn't have a death wish.

Apparently, however, Wesley did. He pushed himself to his feet and stormed over, grabbing one of Angel's arms and using all of his strength to yank him back. Angel released Gunn, turning toward Wesley with a snarl. Wesley gave into his baser instincts and barred his teeth, hissing in warning. He didn't want to fight with his alpha, he knew it was a bad idea, but he refused to allow his mate to be injured all because Angel couldn't keep control of his life.

Wesley easily maneuvered himself between Gunn and Angel once more, releasing Angel's arm as he did so. Angel stared at him, taking in gulps of unneeded breath, obviously in an attempt to calm himself. Wesley swallowed, before finding the strength to speak. "I know you're upset, Angel, but I will not stand by and let you treat the rest of us horribly because of something you have no control over."

The muscle in Angel's jaw twitched, but he didn't reply.

"If you can react that strongly to Gunn's words, why can't you use that in an effort to keep Doyle with you?" Wesley asked, voice soft. He shook his head and sighed, the entire urge to fight and defend Gunn rushing out of him. "If we're going to beat this then we all need to be together, okay? We need Doyle here."

"He's not going to talk to me," Angel finally said.

"I'll call him," Cordelia offered, already heading for the phone.

 

The tension of the room was making Wesley's skin tingle. He felt caged and as a result began pacing along the back of the room, wary eyes watching as Doyle and Angel avoided looking at one another. The bitter emotions of the room felt thick and unnatural as he breathed them in. It made the room seem smaller, like the walls were closing in on him.

"Hey," Gunn's soft voice said. Wesley turned to him automatically, pressing his face against the smooth skin of Gunn's neck. "Are you okay?"

"I'll be fine," Wesley muttered. At least, he would be fine now that Gunn had distracted him.

"We're waiting on you, English," Gunn told him. Wesley looked up and caught Gunn smiling. "You are the brains of this operation, you know."

Wesley snorted, before gave a brief nod and moved away. He walked over to the others, who were disturbingly silent. Clearing his throat, Wesley waited until he had their attention before speaking. "I've found the Arguel responsible for Doyle's problem. Unfortunately I also came into contact with Lindsay, who appears to be the one running the show."

"Why am I not surprised?" Cordelia asked in exasperation.

"Quite," Wesley agreed. "Nonetheless, we need to focus on the Arguel. Now, from my research, most Arguels need to be able to visibly see the person their effecting. I think it's rather obvious that the Arguel isn't following Doyle around, so he must be using the other method."

"Which is...?" Angel asked, eyes darting over to Doyle, before dropping to the floor as though he were sorry to have brought attention to himself. If Wesley weren’t so happy to see them in the same room, he would have found the entire situation beyond annoying.

"He'll need a place he can relax and meditate, so he can safely enter a trance state," Wesley explained. "I'm almost certain this would be his apartment, which isn't that far from here."

"Fine, we go and take care of him," Angel announced, standing. He paused, before looking at Wesley sternly. "Later, we're going to talk about making sure you have back up."

Saying nothing, Wesley followed Angel to the weapons cabinet, reaching for his crossbow. He fingered it, making sure the bow was tight enough. "We really should consider investing in firearms."

"I'll stick with swords, thanks," Angel replied. He turned away, glancing at the others. "We'll take my car."

It was a tight squeeze, with Gunn pressed against one side and Wesley between him and Cordelia in the back seat. Doyle kept glancing backward during the ride, as though wishing he were in the back seat instead of next to his lover. Wesley called out instructions on how to get to the Arguel's apartment occasionally, but otherwise remained silent. They arrived at the apartment, easily entered the building and made their way up the stairs. All in all, the entire thing seemed rather anti-climatic.

Cordelia was the first enter the hallway, insisting that she at least looked normal and therefore wouldn't be shot at the moment anyone spotted her. Wesley wasn't so sure about that, but there was one thing he had learned in his life and that was not to argue with Cordelia when she was determined to prove herself. 

They all pressed their backs against the wall, grouped together like a bunch of children up to mischief. Cordelia peeked around the corner, before turning back to them and mouthing what appeared to be a curse word. "Lindsey's here."

Angel growled loudly from his position next to Gunn. Doyle glanced back at him, one look urging him to be silent. Angel frowned, but stopped growling.

"Okay," Cordelia whispered, nodding decisively. She reached her hand out to Wesley. "Give me your crossbow."

"What?" Wesley asked softly. "Why?"

"Don't be a baby and give me your crossbow," Cordelia ordered. Wesley reluctantly handed it over. He pushed his way to the front of the crowd so he could peek around the corner. Lindsey was walking down the hall, his back to them, toward the Arguel's doorway. Wesley glanced back at Cordelia, who was flipping the safety off of the crossbow. "Okay, here I go."

Suddenly her face erupted into a wide, happy smile that was so fake that Wesley had to look away. Then, with the crossbow carefully point down to the ground and hidden just a bit behind her, Cordelia walked around the corner. Or rather, she sauntered around the corner, her hips moving in a strange motion that only women seemed to be able to manage without falling over.

"Well, well, if it isn't Lindsey McDonald," Cordelia said brightly. Wesley could see Lindsey stiffen, before slowly turning around, giving Cordelia a smile that was just as fake as hers.

"Cordelia, what a pleasant surprise seeing you here," Lindsey greeted, white teeth flashing and his polite tone holding that extremely subtle twang that only the former residents of Oklahoma had.

"Oh, I'm sure you think so," Cordelia replied, just before she lifted the crossbow and pulled the trigger. The bolt hit Lindsey in the thigh and the lawyer let out a gasp of pain, dropping down to one knee and looking at his wound.

Cordelia turned halfway and looked at them, giving them an expectant look. "Well? Are you guys going to stand there and let me do all the work?"

Wesley immediately stepped around the corner and retrieved his crossbow, feeling a bit safer with a weapon on his hand. They all walked down the hall. Angel kicked Lindsey's briefcase away, where he had been struggling to not only open it, but also not fall over. Gunn casually reached over and shoved Lindsey onto his side, causing the bolt in his thigh to hit the floor. Lindsey let out a cry of pain, which Wesley easily ignored as he led the way to Arguel's door. He paused at the door, glancing back to see Doyle grabbing Lindsey by the lapels of his coat.

"I think we'll be having a talk after we deal with your buddy," Doyle informed the lawyer, his accent thick. That said, Doyle began dragging Lindsey toward just as Wesley back to allow Gunn to kick the Arguel's door open.


	12. Chapter 12

The Arguel's living room was dark and silent, except for the bright light shining through the bottom crack of the bedroom door. Doyle dragged Lindsay into the room, throwing him into the corner. Cordelia and Doyle hovered in front of him, blocking any path he might have to escape. Wesley took in a deep breath, tightening his grip on his crossbow and waited for Angel to kick the bedroom door open.

The door flew open with a bang, light flooding Wesley's eyes. Still, his cat eyes managed to adjust quickly and he charged forward, coming up behind Angel and slipping into the room. The Arguel was sitting in the middle of the room, apparently in a meditative state. A bright light was emitting from the gem embedded in its forehead.

The Arguel slowly opened its eyes, turning to look at us. "I expected you to show up."

Wesley saw Angel tense in preparation to attack, before he faltered. Wesley made to go toward him, to see what was wrong, when he felt it. Just as before, the pressure of his mind expanding, welcoming new information, before a wave of pain swept through him. Wesley fell to his knees with a cry of pain, dropping his crossbow in order to clutch at his head.

What he saw then, Wesley would beg for an eternity to never see again. His pride completely decimated. Angel and Doyle ripped into pieces by some unknown force. Cordelia screaming in the distance. Gunn's dead body, eyes staring up at him lifelessly. Wesley dug his fingernails into his scalp, trying to claw the visions out.

He could hear the Arguel laughing and the distant sound if it moving, getting to its feet. Wesley forced his eyes open, trying to see past the pain and blood. Angel was writhing on the ground, face in vampire form and jaw clenched to keep himself from screaming. Wesley couldn't see Gunn, but he could feel his presence and instinct told him that his mate wasn't any better off than Angel.

Wesley pressed his hands against the floor, fingers pressing into the carpet as he panted for breath. His vision swam and more images attacked his brain, but he forced himself to focus on something, anything. A glint of silver caught his eye and he stared down at Angel's sword, which the vampire had dropped in agony. 

A sudden rage coursed through Wesley; uncontrollable and so intense it momentarily pushed the pain the Arguel was causing to the side. Wesley took the moment to snatch up the sword and, struggling to his feet, he thrust it in the direction he was sure the Arguel was standing.

The visions stopped, the others in the room lying on the floor with residual pain in their heads. Wesley looked up at the Arguel, who clutch the hilt of the sword with one hand and stared down at him in shock. Then anger flickered across his face at the gem on his head flashed a bright purple. 

Wesley could only scream in pain. It felt as though someone was ripping his mind to shreds, piece by piece. He dropped back down to his knees, his sight failing him as he slouched to the floor. Then, there was nothing as his mind collapsed onto itself and disappeared forever.

 

Doyle blinked up at the ceiling as his vision returned to normal. Sucking in a sharp breath, he slowly sat up, rubbing at his temple. Cordelia whimpered in pain next to him, still clutching her head. Lindsay appeared even worse for wear. It seemed the Arguel had spared no one in its attempt to defend its territory. Doyle looked toward the doorway, wondering what had happened.

Suddenly a piercing scream erupted into the air. Doyle flinched; the sound so high pitched it caused his ears to ring. It didn't sound human. It sounded more like a wounded animal. Wesley.

Doyle struggled to his feet, rushing toward the door. He entered the room just in time to see Wesley collapse and Gunn's axe to swing in a wide arch, slicing the Arguel's head off cleanly. Gunn didn't stop there; despite it being obvious the Arguel was dead. He raised his axe again and let it fall in the middle of the Arguel's head, shattering the gem.

Now satisfied, Gunn rushed to Wesley's side, lifting the man's head and wincing at the sight of blood dripping steadily from Wesley's nose. "English, come on. It's time to get up. Come on, don't do this to me, man, please."

The pain lacing his voice was too much and Doyle backed out of the room, turning to see Cordelia forcing herself to stand. His eyes landed on Lindsay and he stalked forward. Watery blue eyes peered up at him as Lindsay pressed a hand to his aching head and another to his wounded leg.

"I should kill you," Doyle informed him.

"And taint your pure little soul?" Lindsay asked, seemingly casual.

"I'm sure the Powers would thank me," Doyle replied. He knelt down in front of the man, reaching out to grab him by the jaw. He slammed Lindsay's head back, watching the plaster on the wall crack. "But instead I'm going to let you live."

"Is this where I thank you?" Lindsay's eyes were flickering, like he was about to pass out. Doyle tightened his grip, smiling when Lindsay flinched.

"No need, but if I ever see you again I'm not going to hold back," Doyle said, accent thick as his voice turned serious. "I will kill you, Lindsay, if you hurt my family again."

That said, Doyle stood and turned back to see Angel hovering in the doorway. Angel looked down, clearing his throat. "Wesley's alive, but he's not responding to anything. We need to get him back to the Hyperion."

"Right," Doyle agreed. The unnerving tension in the air between them was too much and, as though sensing Doyle's unease, Angel turned away, allowing Gunn the room to step past. Wesley was cradled in his arms and Gunn had a stone like look to him. Doyle knew he was fighting the urge to cry.

Without a word, Gunn walked past them and toward the front door. As a group they left the apartment, ignoring Lindsay still crumbled in the corner and the dead demon in the bedroom. Gunn insisted on sitting in the back with Wesley in his lap, refusing to let him go except to get out of the car when they had reached the Hyperion.

"I think we need to call Dr. Keebler," Angel commented as they entered the building. Gunn didn't reply, instead he headed straight for the stairs and, most likely, Wesley's room.

"I'll do it," Cordelia offered. Doyle watched her leave the room, leaving him with Angel. 

Doyle wrapped his arms around himself, not sure what to say to the man he loved more than anything. The things that had happened recently had done more damage than Doyle would like to admit, but that didn't change the way he felt about Angel. He knew his reactions were based on something that wasn't true, not in this reality, but he hadn't been able to stop himself.

The tips of Angel's fingers brushed Doyle's hand. Doyle turned to find Angel standing close, staring down at him with a longing that made Doyle's stomach clench. "Angel...?"

"I don't...I don't want this to..." Angel sighed, rubbing at his face in frustration.

"I know," Doyle said, because Doyle always knew what Angel meant to say when he couldn't find the words. Even before they had gotten together, Doyle had been able to figure out what was going on in Angel's head.

Slowly, Doyle slipped his arms around Angel's waist and pulled the larger man into a hug. He felt Angel kiss the top of his head and smiled. He pulled back, mouth opening to speak, but Angel had descended down before a word could come out. Strong lips pressed against Doyle's and he moaned softly into Angel's mouth. Angel kissed him thoroughly, tongue searching his mouth, branding Doyle with his taste.

"That..." Doyle cleared his throat and fought down another smile. "I love you."

"I love you," Angel returned, softly.

 

Gunn stared at the stupid magnifying glass that the doctor held in his hand as he examined Wesley. Dr. Keebler made the occasional noise, but aside from that the room was too silent. Far too silent. There was no sound of china clinking as someone drank tea while reading in bed. There were no softly whispered words in that British accent as someone found an interesting passage and just had to share, despite it being three in the morning. It was too quiet.

Dr. Keebler stood, one hand rubbing thoughtfully at his chin. "It's your typical telepathic attack, I'm afraid."

"Meaning?" Gunn asked, ignoring the way his voice croaked with unshed emotion.

"His mind basically went through a shredding machine," Dr. Keebler explained. Gunn sucked in a sharp breath. "He'll be okay, sooner or later. The mind is an amazing place and it can rejuvenate itself. However, I'm sorry to say that when he does wake up it will be his subconscious self in control, until his conscious mind can rebuild itself."

"His...?" Gunn paused, looking down at Wesley. "You mean the animal in him. He's going to be an animal again."

"He's been an animal all this time, actually," Dr. Keebler said, casually. "He's just a very civilized one."

"But he's still Wesley," Gunn protested.

"Exactly, the infection fitted itself around Wesley instead of overriding it," Dr. Keebler informed him. "He'll always be Wesley, but at the same time he'll always be a dangerous animal. He's had to have shown it, sometime."

Gunn thought of the fight they were in, where Wesley had brought down that demon like a lion tackling its prey. Dr. Keebler didn't wait for Gunn to reply as he began packing away his things. "What do we do?"

"Right now it's just a waiting game," Dr. Keebler said. "It would probably be best if his mate--that would be you--was what he saw first."

Gunn ignored the demon doctor as he left and sat down on the bed. Wesley, as though he knew Gunn was there, rolled over. Wesley had been moving on his own, as though he were simply asleep, for some time now. Dr. Keebler, when he had first entered the room, had claimed that movement was usually done without the mind thinking about it, which is why Wesley was able to roll over now.

Gunn slid down onto the bed, pulling Wesley closer to him. He forced himself to relax and, finally, he fell asleep.

A strange rumbling noise woke him up a few hours later. It almost sounded like an engine, but it was softer and, aside from that, Gunn didn't have his head pressed against a car hood. Instead it was pressed against Wesley's chest. Gunn pried his eyes open. The room was brighter than before, with the sun was streaming through the single window across the room. 

Hands were pressed against his sides, moving gently in a rhythmic motion. It took Gunn a moment to realize that Wesley was kneading him, like a cat. Slowly, Gunn lifted his head and looked down at Wesley. The purr grew louder and Wesley peered up through half-lidded eyes, the irises bright gold. Wesley's lips were parted, showing the slightest hint of his fangs. It was sexiest thing Gunn had ever seen.

"English?" Gunn whispered, lifting a hand to stroke Wesley's cheek. There was a slight flicker of recognition, but it was no more than that of a cat hearing its owner call its name. Gunn shuddered, feeling tears sting the back of his eyes. 

As though sensing his distress, Wesley cuddled up closer to him, nuzzling his neck as the purr kicked up another notch. Gunn sighed, resting his cheek against Wesley's forehead and trying to keep himself from running out of the room. "Everything's going to be okay, Wesley."

Wesley made a soft noise, as though agreeing. If only Gunn felt so hopeful. He knew, deep down, that Wesley would come back from this. That's how strong he was.

Gunn reached up, running his fingers through Wesley's hair. He felt Wesley relaxed, then the subtle change in his breathing that told Gunn that he was asleep. Gunn slowly pried himself away, needing to get out of the room. 

"How is he?" Cordelia asked as he passed her, making his way to the kitchen.

"He's...alive," Gunn replied. Gunn glanced past her, out the kitchen door and across the lobby where he could see Angel and Doyle sitting on the sofa, talking. "Are they back together or what?"

"Hopefully," Cordelia said with a shrug. She watched him a moment, her eyes older than he had ever noticed before. "He'll be fine, Gunn."

"How do you know?" Gunn whispered.

"Hey, which one of us is the Vision Girl, hmm?" Cordelia asked, grinning. Gunn looked over at her, noticing the pure hope in her eyes. She radiated with a sense of knowledge and Gunn felt, for once, he had to trust her.

He was glad he did. One week later, Wesley woke up saying his name for the first time since before the battle.

 

Epilogue

Fighting change is useless, in the end. Change isn't just an occurrence; it isn't simply a force appearing in the lives of free willed creatures. Change is a spirit all on its own and only change decided when and how it was going to occur.

Wesley was never one to take something for granted and, while at times he would wish none of this ever happened, all he needed to do was look around and see what change had brought him. A pride, filled with people that cared more about him than his birth parents. A mate, who allowed Wesley to be both dominant and submissive, according to his mood. 

The difficult side of change was not fighting it, as though it were an enemy. This caused people to react badly, to do the complete opposite of what their character normally would have. Wesley knew this, for he had watched the struggle Doyle had undergone. Still, even the bad results of a decision could lead to something good, something whole.

The key, no matter what, was to remember that change was both punishment and reward for life itself.

 

Final Notes:  
Started: January 14, 2006  
Completed: May 9, 2007


End file.
